


Hex Marks the Spot | Jasper Hale

by Jemstone6259



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Curses, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fanfiction, Mages, Magic, Thriller, Vampires, Warlocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 63,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27130687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemstone6259/pseuds/Jemstone6259
Summary: The cycle continued to spin. Offering another stolen identity, forcing another face to be worn, another life to be toyed with. This was just one more cycle to the endless circle of inevitable endings. Another setting with millions of memories that must be written to be recorded.
Relationships: Jasper Hale/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. August 13th, 2003

"Eyes Talk"  
\- **Anonymous** -

* * *

Damn, that had hurt. 

Nichole winced as she sat up. A dull pulsating pain spreading from the right side of her body to the left. Her gaze shifting and dark fingers hesitantly hovered over her wounded right arm.

Mud and grit had become enmeshed within the raw and bloody appendage, leaving a stinging warmth in its wake. Blood had already begun to seep, but it wasn’t till the pain registered in her brain did curses begin to fly in petulant whines as tremors ran down her spine. 

One moment she had been rushing forward, pale eyes locked onto the jennies, and then the next her foot had slipped into a rabbit hole and down Nichole had gone. Her tumble had left her with dirty and torn skin; and the inescapable acknowledgment that this was going to be very painful to clean later.

Nichole's money was on it being infected too.

Which left the irresistible question of : _Why_?  
Why was she sitting on the ground with a bleeding arm, pulsing ankle, and a stinging cheek?  
Why had she prolonged getting that panel fixed?  
Why didn't she just go check their pen last night before going to bed?

Because, Forks was having another torrential downpour and Nichole just hadn't felt like getting drenched that late into the evening.

Feet, unsteady in their ways, heaved Nicole up as she cradled her arm against her belly. The movement had lips curling downward so to stifle a pained hiss as dark fingers tenderly grazed the inflamed flesh.

She could feel another profanity behind tightly pressed lips but silence took the anger as a cold grasp yanked her bleeding arm free. She didn't have the time to turn before her legs gave out beneath her as an unexpected burst of pain jolted through her body. Nichole briefly felt his teeth imbed themselves into her before a strangled scream tore from her throat.

The pain, the stinging, and the burning awakened memories long since buried and repressed. The echo's of another life being jarred and twisted within her mind. It wasn't images that came but smells, sensations, and desires. To many to count and to few to recognize. A blur that she couldn't identify but knew had happened once upon a time ago. Her mind pulsed and throbbed the longer he allowed his poisons to enter and corrupt her thin blue tinted veins.

And, all he did in response to her pleading cries was rattle her with his own bone chilling growls.

The pain, the burning, the fire was too much for Nichole. Her mind couldn't take the mess. She knew something was bothering her. Something was hurting her. Something was tearing her apart from the inside, and making her invalid as it did so. She knew deep down from within those repressed memories that there was no reasoning with this unbearable familiar burning through her veins.

Pale eyes of grey were half-lidded, even as they periodically rolled up into her skull.

She never felt him withdraw. Nor did she hear the feral cries as he struggled against his sudden restraints. Pain is all that there was. The burning hot fire.

And, somewhere off in the distance the heavy thundering beat of hoofs.

Voices blurred together in a multitude of high and low frequencies. Words, mere words, strung tightly together became a nauseating buzz within her mushy mind. Nichole couldn't grasp anything besides the pain heating her body. She couldn't even comprehend the single sentence that repeatedly fell from her bloody lips.

Silhouettes moved quickly around her and her body involuntarily shuttered and jolted about as cold arms collected her twitching body. Someone was whispering to her softly as they moved but Nichole couldn't make out what they were saying any more than she could consciously understand the three words she kept grinding out between sputtering sobs.

* * *

Carlisle moved swiftly through the forest, his feet barely touching the ground as he ran. He needed to hurry. He needed to get distance between one of his oldest sons and the dark skinned mortal crying out in his arms.

" _Get it out!"_  
 _"Get it out!"_  
 _"Get it out!"_

Her pleads were spaced out but he caught each and every choppy sentence that passed her bloody lips. The girl had bitten her tongue in the haze of pain that came from Jasper’s venom. If Carlisle had still been human his heart would have clenched painfully for the girl.

He needed to hurry. He needed to put her down before the song in her blood twisted his mind as well. It shouldn't have been doing that though; not to him at least. Carlisle had the best control over his thirst. Yet, never had he been so tempted by the blood of a human than now. Her blood sang so loudly to him that he found it hard to ignore. It was a miracle in itself that Jasper had been the only one to accidentally attack. So few vampires could simply turn away from a blood singer. Especially one with an odor like hers.

Carlisle took through the open front door and crossed the threshold to the second floor before gently laying the mortal on the table in his personal office. Her face was closed in a grimace and her skin was pale and clammy. Tears freely flowed from swollen and red eyes as another raw scream tore from her.

Her frail body twitched and withered on the table as he analyzed her wounds before placing pressure over the bite. It had been an unnecessary action, retrieving one of Esme's pearly white hand towels, but it had been instinctual for the doctor. Next best to holding her hand and whispering claiming words through the changing process.

Carlisle knew the fire raging within her body. He knew the pain of turning and could only stand beside her as she changed. The guilt sat not in his chest but inside his brain; for what had been done could not be un-done. A simple accident, slip-up, was going to result in a life being taken away. There was going to be regret and guilt alongside anger from those within his small precious coven, but Carlisle could only hope that in time they would forgive themselves — Accidents happen.

Pale orbs flashed open, wide as saucers, as her hoarse voice shuttered between heavy sobs, "Get it out!". It wasn't the pleading his ears had already heard that had his attention. It was her wide, bloodshot, and teary glare filled with anger and pain that stunned Carlisle. He expected to see the pain but not the raging anger that sat within those grey depths.

Carlisle just didn't expect to witness her fear fighting to smother the anger as it burned relentlessly on the receiving end.

"Get it out!" Her vocals broke and wobbled dangerously as pain shot through her. Yet, despite the fire the fingers on her right hand twitched as if in an attempt to close inward. " _Please…_ "

Carlisle's darkened eyes shifted to where the bite mark on her arm laid beneath the once white towel. An idea that had more than once entertained his mind surfaced.

Peeling the towel from her wound his gaze darkened as her scent further corrupted the air, forcing Carlisle to hold his breath.

Her wounded, surprisingly, appeared to be fairly clean despite the bit of mud and grit still lingering within the folds of her torn skin. He wanted to help her, more than the mortal most likely knew, but Carlisle wasn't even sure if his hypotheses would even work. Was it even possible to suck the venom back out? Could he stop the transformation by doing this or would he just be prolonging the change?

Carlisle wasn't sure if it was the mortal withering on his dining room table or a voice within his own consciousness but he could have sworn for a split second that someone had told him to do it.

And, that is just what the blonde did. His cold grasp took hold of the arm where the burning was strongest and he lifted the appendage into the air.

"Hold as still as possible."

* * *

Nichole's eyesight blurred but not because of the tears. Her sight was tunneling because the pain was escalating. It was intensifying until she was left with nothing to see at all. Until her consciousness was left to float through an empty space filled with thick static. With a heart pounding so loudly in the inky void that it rang within her ears.

Laughter bubbled up from within, but the smile on her face was broken and the joyful sound didn't meet the look in her pale eyes.

She just had to pick fucking Forks this time around didn't she.

* * *

**Please leave a comment to let me know what you think!**   
  
**The Twilight Saga is Owned by Stephenie Meyer.**   
**Other Characters and Plot Developments belong to Jemstone6259.**   
**And lastly, a special thank-you to the readers!**


	2. Chapter 2

Glass Half Empty  
Glass Half Full  
 **\- "King"** by **Lauren Aquiline -**

* * *

Nichole's brain stuttered for the briefest moment. Her sensory system was being overloaded. Acrid odors were assaulting her from all directions, causing her nose to wrinkle and her head to roll side to side in disdain. While her muscles felt like they had been flash-burned with acid on the inside. However, what really had her mind reeling hadn't fully set in yet, and it wasn't how oddly quiet everything was.

She was still Nichole Bray Dante; and Nichole Bray Dante was still alive and breathing.

There was still blood beneath her dark skin and Nichole struggled to understand why. Why was she still here? Still breathing? Still bleeding? It wasn't that she didn't understand what had happened because she did. What Nichole didn't understand was why she wasn't beginning over.

Why hadn't she died?  
Why wasn't the wheel turning?

Yanking herself into an upright position, she glanced around the unfamiliar room of spaciously decorated dark walls with their tall stuffed bookshelves. The large glass window to her left showed how late it had gotten, but it was too bright for Nichole to look through. So, she kept her head down and studied the dark desk below. Her distraction didn't last long, not with the tenderness in her mouth or the damp area covering her right side. They brought about a brief recollection of the previous events. All of which left Nichole shivering.

The attack had been completely unexpected. She hadn't been spared the time to be startled before her offender's teeth sunk in. Nor, ready for the pain she had forgotten about.

Forgotten? No, that wasn't right. That memory had just been locked away. It had belonged to another life. To which one though? Who had she been when that vampire had attacked her? Was she younger then or older? Had it occurred in a time already passed? Or, was it still years away?

 _'It doesn't matter.'_ It didn't, not really. Whether she remembered a small echo like that or not wasn't a big deal. Not when it was just another death to add to her growing collection. _'I should write it down though.'_

Nostrils flared and Nichole's face twisted into a grimace as phantom pains surged through her neck and left arm. As for her physical wounds, they continued to tingle numbly.

Three abrupt knocks had Nichole's head shooting up. "May I come in?" Not a word slipped past tightly pressed lips as she straightened her spine. A door, which had been left ajar, slowly opened as a stranger cautiously entered. A small, friendly, smile flashed across his pale face as their gazes briefly met.

The friendly demeanor he presented was unsettling when she took note of the red tinting in his vividly golden eyes. It left the hairs on the back of her neck standing.

"I'm Doctor Carlisle Cullen." He paused, and it was unclear to Nichole if the doctor was simply waiting for a response or if he was just letting his words settle. "How are you feeling? You lost quite a bit of blood."

Another step was taken and in response the muscles beneath her skin tensed. 

"That was quite the harsh tumble you had. How does your head feel? Is there any nausea? Pain?" Nichole's shoulder rolled inwards as her eyes flickered to the bandages wrapped around her right arm. "I numbed the areas around your wounds with lidocaine before suturing a few of your larger cuts." Nichole's attention switched from her numb and tingling appendage to the man before her. Her silence didn't seem to be causing any issues, quite yet, and Nichole briefly wondered just how long his good doctor façade would last.

Lifting her chin a bit, Nichole wondered what she was not seeing. There was no logical reason for his behavior. Vampires were not known for being sympathetic; especially towards their food. He had to be after something. Why else would she still be alive?

If this was a game then Nichole wanted nothing to do with it. She did not want to participate and be dubbed the fool.

Doctor Cullen took another slow step towards her, and this time Nichole stayed completely still.

"I'd just like to check on your injuries." With a simple nod, he set to unravel the bandages. Beneath was not a pretty sight. Her forearm looked to be splattered in purple and yellow blotches. The deeper cuts, including the parts where she had been bitten, had been pulled back together with stark little white stitches.

Pupils dilated as she studied the teeth marks on her arm. 

"I suppose I should be thanking you for not killing me." The doctor didn't release her arm but he did momentarily glance up at her; concern written across his face. Eyes preoccupied with jagged marking missed the look she was receiving. Nichole wasn't sure how the bloodsucker had been removed but she knew he hadn't gone willingly. 

Silence ensued as the good doctor lightly probed along her arm. The whole appendage was numb, and Nichole could feel a tingling as he poked about.

"Would you rather I not have helped you?" He asked, taking a step back as he finished his assessment and tossed the old bandages into a trashcan.

"That depends," Nichole mumbled, her gaze locked onto his right front pocket. It hadn't slipped her notice the pendant that peeked out as he retrieved her new bandages.

"Depends?"

"Was it by accident? Or, because of the smell?" Looking away from the necklace she noticed for the first time the dark bags beneath his eyes.

She saw the curiosity and confusion in the depths of those golden orbs, dashed with bits of red. "Tell me, Mr. Vamp, why do I still breath?"

The accused's eyes widened a fraction but other than that he didn't appear to be too surprised that she knew. Which, left Nichole wondering if she had done, or said, something while stuck in that haze of pain. She couldn't remember much past the rabbit hole and a head of dirty blonde hair. Things after that just blurred together.

"We mean you no harm miss, me or my family."

He wasn't being forthright, at least not in the way Nichole wanted the doctor to be. She hated having to double guess herself. It would have been simpler if he would have allowed her to die. It wasn't like he spared her from anything.

Why couldn't he just admit to what she was accusing him of being? Why did they have to dance around each other like this?

"Then it wasn't one of yours that carved their sweet little teeth into me?" Nichole held her arm out to the doctor for re-bandaging. She saw no hesitation in his chalky white hands as he worked, no indication that he was changing his mind.

"My family is considered a bit of an oddity because of our way of living. Our diet isn't necessarily the same as the others of our kind." Nichole was mildly confused at what he was getting at? Why tell her this? How was this relevant? Why couldn't he just be straight-forward so they could get this over with? It wasn't like she didn't know where this conversation was leading. Where it would end. "We don't hunt humans, only animals. We are vegetarians in a way, I suppose. Even so, a few in my family are still new to this way of life and on occasions there are people like you who have... different effects on some of us."

That... was not entirely what she had been expecting to hear. Nichole had expected for him to bring up her strangely intoxicating blood, but not the part about them being vegetarians.

She didn't know vampires could survive off of animal blood. Never once had such a thought humored her. Why should it have?

The good doctor released Nichole's arm, and for a second it hung there suspended in the air. Her pale grey eyes studying his work. It was excellently done.

"It's perplexing, isn't it. How the blood beneath my skin can call to each and every one of you." Gently she pulled her arm back and let it rest on her legs. "That's how it has always been." It wasn't a lie. Her blood tended to attract things inhuman. That's why she had the pendant.

"I have a special necklace that helps." A very specially made pendant for her very unique case. "And, I do believe it's sitting in that pocket of yours."

She knew it was in his pocket. She had seen it earlier. A move on his part that without a doubt had been done to gain a reaction. Nichole's eyes fixated on the pocket as she wondered if he could sense the magical properties woven into it. There were powerful spells at work within the stone that those with magic could feel, but what about a vampire? Did their kind possess the extra sensibility? Or, did he just recognize the hand-carved symbols on the stone.

That couldn't be why he had chosen to save her. What would a vampire need from a midwestern cult? What did he think she had to offer? Information? Nichole was no witch. She just had ties to a very ancient, very old, order of magicians. More precisely certain bloodlines that originally hail from Haven and Salem.

Her ties weren't even that deep. It really was just dumb luck that those in this life were still willing to repay such an old debt.

Nichole’s gaze shifted as he spoke. "My apologies, I suspected it to be yours but we were unsure."

Unsure of what? The fact it was hand-crafted by a sorcerer, and she was no sorceress, or the fact it reeked of her dulled scent?

Wait... that didn't make sense. The pendant was supposed to help suppress the smell of her blood so how would it be possible for him to detect her scent on it?

Nichole frowned as he retrieved the necklace. It wasn't till the obsidian stone was placed in the palm of her hand that her facial expression turned to one of absolute disdain. It was unsettling the amount of abhorring Carlisle was witnessing, and if Nichole would have glanced up she would have noticed just how startled it had made the good doctor.

Her attention though was fully absorbed in the cracks running through the pendant. Dark fingers hesitantly traced the splintering stone's surface, over the moth and the three interlocking rings wrapped around the insect.

This was just great.

A wonderful turn of events.

Expelling air from her nose in annoyance, Nichole wrapped her fingers around the pendant. Not knowing if the pendant would work now or not troubled her deeper than she was willing to admit.

"Pardon the intrusion." Nichole's spine straightened with a pop as she shifted instinctually towards the figure standing in the doorway.

How long had she been standing there?

Nichole could find no immediate danger emitting from the woman. No sign she was going to finish off what her attacker or the good doctor hadn't. It was obvious to both of the cold creatures that the arrival of the second inhuman had the girl more on edge than before.

"Esme, you need not push yourself." The doctor moved swiftly, positioning himself neatly between the dark-haired beauty and Nichole.

"I'm all right, Carlisle." Vivid yellow - golden? - eyes flickered to Nichole's rigid straight form. "She's not as... potent as before."

Nichole hadn't noticed it till now but the woman, Esme, seemed to be just as on edge as she was. There was a wariness to her that drastically differed from the tender-hearted and compassionate look she was sporting.

"I don't mind." Nichole voiced, surprising the two. It wasn't a lie exactly. Nichole welcomed the newcomer, even with the danger she imposed, because she offered an excellent new distraction from Nichole's own trembling hands.

The pale beauty smiled at her and as she moved towards Nichole the doctor followed her movements with his eyes. The tension in his shoulders, that Nichole knew not of, was lifting. "Water?" Leaving the pendant on her lap Nichole took the glass with both hands, not trusting herself to hold it with only one. She didn't raise it to her lips to soothe her scratchy, raw throat, instead she settled it on top of her thighs.

It wasn't that she suspected them to have tainted the water. Doing so wouldn't have logically made sense. Especially after everything they had gone through to keep her alive.

If they wanted to kill her they would have done it by now and not with poisoned water.

Her throat ached and throbbed, but Nichole just wasn't thirsty.

Still, she couldn't get it off her mind that she wasn’t seeing something. Where was the logic in being this hospitable?

Gnawing on her pulsing tongue Nichole stared into the pale vampire's eyes. They were different from the good doctor's. While hers were still a yellowish-gold they were darker and didn't have that dash of red his did.

Unconsciously, Nichole's fingers curled a tad tighter around the glass as the hair on her neck and arms rose.

"We aren't going to hurt you, Miss..." Nichole wanted to point out that he had already said that to her but didn't. Instead, she purposely ignored his pause at the end and opted to sit up a bit straighter. Her intentions of not responding were easily spotted by the two before her who shared a glance.

"Where are my manners? I never introduced myself, did I? I am Esme Cullen, and Carlisle is my husband." Her voice had become softer than before, less professional and mother-like.

Nichole wished she'd stop.  
She didn't want any introductions.  
She didn't care about their names.

Names meant connections and connections were not what Nichole wanted. Couldn't they just let her leave? Why did they have to be so nosy and curious? Why couldn't they be like her? Why did they have to care? Nichole didn't. She wasn't interested in learning about them. She didn't want to know anything more about their species. She already knew what she already wanted to know. What she needed to know.

It would have been less of a hassle if they had just left her to die. Accidents happen and any guilt fades with time.

"We aren't going to hurt you." A hand was on her shoulder and instantly Nichole recoiled away, breaking the contact.

"But, you're going to hold me here until you get a satisfying enough answer." Even with her raspy voice Nichole pinned them with a cold and uncaring stare.

"We weren't going to keep you here against your will. We just wanted to ask you a few questions, and once we're done you can be on your way." He was contradicting himself, and Nichole wanted nothing more than to point that out. So she did. 

"You're being rather contradicting. Saying I'm free to leave when I desire, but can't until we cover your worries." Neither tried to fill the space she left. They just stood and stared with those awfully alluring eyes. "Well, what is it you want to know then?"

_'How do I know what you are?'  
'Why does my blood have such strange effects on all of you?'  
'Why I have a pendant infused with strong magic?'_

"To be honest, we aren't quite sure how to proceed." Nichole didn't expect the good doctor to retort with that. He seemed like someone who knew what to ask, when to ask it, and exactly how to go about doing so.

"Why don't we begin with how you know of our kind?" Now, this Nichole was expecting to hear. Just maybe not from the pretty, pale lady. She seemed more like the type to stand back and watch, maybe adding her two cents once in a while. She just didn't strike Nichole as the type to be so confronting.

Maybe they were trying to switch things up, just as Nichole was about to do.

It was rather ironic honestly. How easily words can be twisted on you. Nichole had just lectured them on being contradicting and here she was doing the exact same thing. She had asked them what they had wanted to know, and they responded as expected. Now they were waiting for her response, her explanation, that would solve something but Nichole had no desire to actually follow through with what she had said.

She didn't want to share how she knew what they were.

Why? Because that would draw out more questions and chances were that those questions would lead to what Nichole really didn't like to discuss.

"I just do." She hadn't noticed how long she had sat there in thought, leaving them in silence until then. A bit of guilt washed over her but before it could do any damage Nichole shoved it way down into her feet.

It must have been the guilt that Esme saw that inspired her to say what she did next. "I'm sorry."

Still, those sympathetic words surprised Nichole, causing grey hues to widen. "You're finding it strange most likely that I'm apologizing, but what happened to you truly had been a horrible accident. None of us meant for it to happen, especially my son."

At first, it was like Nichole's brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to take in the emotional speech, but as the wife continued, Nichole's initial reaction began to dwindle. "He's still so new to our way of life, and-"

"Please stop." It may have been rude to interject herself like that but Nichole was tired of all this. She had already heard the doctor's similar monologue and had no interest in repeating the conversation with this woman.

"I don't blame your son for what happened." Nichole didn't, she truly didn't. "As I said before my blood has a strange luring effect on those who are not human. That's why I have this pendant."

Freeing her right hand, Nichole dangled the pendant in the air before the two. "The magic infused in this stone's symbols helps to suppress the smell of my blood. Though only as long as it stays undamaged."

She was being mostly truthful. Nichole just wasn't too sure if the last part of what was said was accurate or not. 

"And, as to why my blood is so abnormal, I can't answer that because I do not know." Now that was a flat out lie. Nichole knew exactly why her blood sang so vividly to those who were inhuman. She knew exactly why it grew stronger with each year that passed.

It seemed after Nichole's spiel no one knew quite what to say. In a way she was fine with the silence because she was done talking.

"Your parents must be worried, with you being gone as long as you have. Would you like to use our phone to call them?" But, it seemed the dead weren't.

Nichole shook her head no. It was all she planned to do but her mouth was open and words were spilling out without a second thought. All thanks to a strand of guilt that couldn't be erased so easily. Shy did she have to feel bad about being rude to them? It was their kind that did this to her. Why couldn't she be angry? 

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I don't live with my parents." Now that was an understated understatement. Nichole’s parents were still in Colorado, or at least that's where they had been when she left in 1999.

"If you don't mind me asking. How old are you?" And, it seemed the more Nichole spoke the more jarred she made her hosts. Their sympathy became fleeting as concern scorned their features.

"Sixteen."

This was getting ridiculous.  
Had Nichole not answered the immediate questions?  
Were things not cleared up enough now?

"If you're worried about your family's secret don't be. No one other than those involved will know the truth about what happened. I live alone and I don't associate with anyone." Setting the full glass to the side and tucking the cracked pendant into the pocket of her jeans Nichole stood. It wasn't too much of a surprise when her body shuttered from numerous dull aches and pains or when she violently swayed. Such were the effects of medicine, blood-loss, and a possible twisted ankle.

"Can I go now? Or do we still need to have a heart-to-heart conversation?" The aggravation in her voice brought about another round of concerned glances between the two.

Nichole could taste the slight flavor of copper in her mouth.

"Of course, you're free to leave." He wanted to speak more but held his tongue, instead offering a kind smile and melodic words. "Would you like a ride home?"

It was an offer Nichole nearly shot down, but that would have just complicated things further. She had no clue where she was. If she was still near Forks or had been taken outside of Washington. Anything was possible and Nichole wasn't going to take any more unnecessary risks. Like figuring her way home in the sudden downpour. 

"That would be... nice... thank you."

* * *

**Thank you so much for the comments and hearts! They mean a great deal to me, and inspire me to write more often and publish quicker!**   
  
**The Twilight Saga is Owned by Stephenie Meyer.**   
**Other Characters and Plot Developments belong to Jemstone6259.**   
**And lastly, a special thank-you to the readers!**


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey, you tell your friends it was nice to meet them  
but I hope I never see them again_  
\- “ **Closer** ” by **Chainsmokers** -

* * *

"Do you attend the high school here in Forks?"

It was hard for Carlisle not to inquire, or glance to the side as he talked. She was a mystery, a victim of his family, and someone who knew too much.

Yet, despite his obvious gaze being directed between her and the road Nichole couldn't tear her own eyes from the restless sky above. She had no clue that the good doctor was taking stock of her blanched cheeks, that she wasn't putting too much weight on her right ankle, or that her unruly ebony strands had been stripped of their natural color.

What? Nichole liked the color blue. Especially in a multitude of shades at the tips of her hair.

It was partially why she liked the small town so much. Despite it being rainy, wet, cold, and damp it had an astonishing set of blue hues at its disposal. Even now she could see the darker hues in the tumultuous and dark sky above. Forks, Washington, a place known for its horrendous rain exposure. If the weather could have been court-martialed it would have been shot. No questions asked.

Maybe she could join in.

"No."

"Are you homeschooled?"

"No."

It was an unseasonably mild retort, that's how they had all been, but it was a response nonetheless. Nichole was tired, drained, bone dead exhausted and wanted nothing more than to slip into a state of ease. She wasn't sure if she was coming off as a mega-bitch, simply uncaring, or if her silence and stillness were being mistaken for tranquility. She wasn't any one of those except exhausted, and possibly still a bit rattled by what had happened.

She was uncomfortable sitting in such a small space with a creature of death. She was uneasy about how she hadn't died. It felt unnatural to be saved and it left her feeling antsy. Like at any moment things would right themselves.

"Will you be a fall student at Peninsula or the University of Washington?" He asked through the heavy squalls of rain.

Nichole was a fan of how his mind worked. The good doctor had kept his mask held tightly to his face, never once letting it slip or crack. It hurt her head to think that he was thinking so deeply, strategizing so intensely, so he could be several steps ahead of what her mortal brain was capable of. She wanted to hate the honey-coated words he spoke, but she couldn't. They felt, and sounded, too natural.

A heavy silence settled between them, thicker than the rain outside the car, as Nichole ignored his question. It was far-fetched anyway. She was sixteen. Meaning technically she was still an adolescent.

Fingers, consciously, tapped at a silent rhythm as Nichole kept an eye out for the little road that led to her cottage.

"Turn right here." She pointed with her free hand where the road was. It was nearly hidden between the trees and the downpour of heavy rain, but not impossible for the good doctor to see.

Nichole hadn't known.

From what she could remember she couldn't recall there ever being a clan of vampires in Forks. She knew of the shifters, from her journals and her acquaintances, but a group of vampires who had a permanent place here?

She'd have to add this to her journal and send a copy to those in the Saaven Coven she trusted. It would be good to know at a later date down the road, especially if she forgot.

"Your family," He was hesitant, his eyes wandered Nichole's face as if anticipating a reaction that hadn't yet happened. "-do they live nearby?"

It was a loaded shot that Nichole hadn't been expecting. She hadn't thought he'd bring up her biological parents once more after she announced that she wasn't living with them.

Was he still worried she was going to blab to someone? Tell their deep dark secret?

Who would believe such an illogical proclamation? Normal people wouldn't, that's who. Those who weren't already exposed to the supernatural world would chalk her decree up to the aftershock of being exposed to the elements and her tumble. Nichole could almost guarantee that someone would suggest that it had all been a hallucination. That she had hit her head on her way down, despite the fact that there was no goose egg on her dome.

It would have been more of a hassle to try to prove a fantasy than to let things go.

Not that it mattered. Nichole had been truthful in her speech back at the Cullen house. She didn't live with anyone and rarely associated with others. The good doctor would discover that shortly.

"You mentioned that you live separately." He paused, it seemed like he was waiting for confirmation from the dark-skinned teen. Verification that Nichole knew she had already given at a different time.

"Was everything all right at home?" This time the pause was different. This time Nichole's eyes widened a fracture, and she knew that the good doctor had taken note of her small reaction. Her head snapped towards him and her eyes narrowed as he went on. 

"Were your relationships at home tense, a bit controlling, or malicious?"

Nichole's molars ground against one another as she turned her glare towards the rain, thunder, and lightning.

"If you were having issues at home and then wanting to disappear, it's understandable, but there are people who can help you.

Tightly pressed lips were forcefully loosened as they turned upward in a loose smile. Carlisle could see through the bundles of nerves beneath her skin, trembling and twitching in irritation, that he had hit a nerve.

"Mr. Cullen, I wasn't abused at home." Her retort was short and abrasive. A little too defensive for her liking but there was nothing Nichole could do now.

"My apologies, I hadn't meant to offend you. I was -"

"You didn't. It's fine." He hadn't, the good doctor truly hadn't. The biological parents of this fleshy body hadn't once physically or mentally hurt her. They were kind and loving people. They paid their taxes, went to church on Wednesdays, and had family meals at the dining table. Anyone with a sane mind wouldn't have left a home like that, but Nichole hadn't been given a choice. Things happened and her hand had been forced.

She liked to think it would be better this way.  
Liked to think distancing herself would keep the pain and grief to a minimum.  
She liked her pretty little lies.

"In two miles, take a left and then stay on that road, my home is on the right."

It was quiet following that. Only the sound of the rain pelting the hood of the shiny black car, the blasting heater, and her own thoughts were left.

Seven, long, minutes passed before the doctor pulled to a stop. Nichole had the door open and the umbrella, given by the beauty, opened before Dr. Cullen had the car in the park.

"Would it be all right if I stopped by tomorrow to see how the tissue's on your arm are healing?" The soothing serenity of his voice had her momentarily pausing to glance over her shoulder at him. It was a silvery lull that she was beginning to hate, an addictive melody to kind on the ears.

"Do as you wish."

"Miss, the-" He wavered, holding his tongue for the briefest of seconds as he contemplated his next words. 

"I'm going to have to speak with my family about today, but please rest easy. Your unique blood is quite unsettling and a bit worrying but I promise you that we will bring no more harm to you than what has already happened. I feel horrible for what occurred and if the lure of your blood is too much for certain members of my family then we will take our leave. I will not put my family or innocent people in danger over possible situations that can be avoided." His soft smile had Nichole shivering, despite the damp warmth in the humid air. 

"I apologize for what happened and thank you for understanding our need to stay hidden. Please, though don't hold it against my son for what happened—"

"I won't."

For once Nichole wasn't cutting in abrasively or defensively. While lies were a favorite of Nichole's, she couldn't lie to the doctor, or find it in herself to abhor the creature who had attacked her. Hating him would mean she held it against him for reacting to his most basic of instincts.

The good doctor's son had only reacted because her blood had been accidentally spilled. Nichole wouldn't dream of holding it against someone of their kind for reacting like the vampire had. It wasn't his fault he couldn't resist, few could, the older she got the more potent her blood became.

Like fruit it ripened, and like fruit she would soon begin to rot.

At least when she had the pendant there was comfort in knowing that her uniquely alluring smell could be hidden. Before there had been a sort of comfort knowing the likelihood of being eaten had been decreased. Now she had a cracked pendant and a clan of vampires living nearby, and most certainly some newly awakening shifters. If a few weren't already changed.

Nichole couldn't decide if it would be better to stay put and just get it over with sooner or take off and try to last longer.

Would it matter?  
Doubtfully.

"I'll keep you no longer." He pulled her from her thoughts, grounding her back into reality. "Do have a good evening, young lady. I'll be by tomorrow afternoon if that works with you. Oh and here." He pulled a small bottle from his pocket.

"The lidocaine will wear off in a few hours. These will help soothe the pain and discomfort." Nodding, Nichole took the pill bottle and proceeded to exit.

"Thank you," It was a whisper, but one she knew he would hear. "for everything." Even with the crackling thunder above.

* * *

This life could be beautiful and brutal. It carried its own mysteries and unknowns. In his many years, Carlisle had only come across a handful of predicaments that left him stumped; and this particular situation had quickly been added to the small pile.

One could imagine the shock Carlisle felt when he found out that Jasper had lost control and attacked a mortal and Alice hadn't been able to see it coming in time. He couldn't decide if the turmoil of the day had been at its peak then or if it reached that afterword.

She was young and a mortal with blood that sang at different frequencies. She had tripped and fallen, scraping herself up, while Jasper and Alice had been out hunting. The smell of her blood had traveled miles, reaching each of the Cullens, but causing the newest member of the family to lash out.

Jasper had bitten her and infected her veins with his venom. If the two hadn't been close by Edward wouldn't have seen Alice's vision. If Edward hadn't been notified through Alice then the rest of the family wouldn't have found out until it was too late.

She had been lucky, the nameless girl, in more ways than Carlisle knew she could understand. At least that's what he thought originally. Now, he wasn't so sure.

She had known what they were. She had called him out without a doubt, without a question, without a worry. Like this was an everyday event for her.

It worried him.

She shouldn't have logically accepted what they were that quickly. She shouldn't have reacted as calmly as she had. Why weren't her instincts tearing her apart and leaving her in a screaming, crying, and pleading mess?

Was it because she knew mages? Was it because she had a pendant infused with powerful spells? Was it because she knew about the strange allure her blood had?

She was no witch, Carlisle could smell that. Mages, despite being human, were not the same as their fellow homo sapiens. There was a repulsive tartness to them that acted as a natural deterrent toward his kind.

She was a blood singer. The type that his kind knew little of and who was nearly irresistible.

She would have fit into the category perfectly if her blood had called to only one of them and not all of them. He had never heard of a _la tua cantante_ that could affect multiple vampires.

What really confused Carlisle was that she knew of the effects her blood had. She knew it called to them. She had been right when stating how perplexing it could be, but did its unusual qualities have a role in her not changing?

His theory had been just that, a theory. Something he wasn't sure would work but was willing to try if it meant saving the girl, and it had worked! By not biting her Carlisle had managed to suck the contaminated blood from Jasper's bite. It had been tricky not to infect her with his own venom but in the end he had managed to do what was once thought to be impossible. He'd managed to halt a transformation!

Maybe it had only worked because the venom hadn't reached her heart yet. Maybe it had only worked because he had acted fast after the accident. Or, maybe it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with what ran in her veins and the cracked pendant. Whatever the cause was the girl was still human, still warm, and still alive.

That alone Carlisle knew would help decrease the amount of shame and regrets Jasper was feeling. If he hadn't arrived when he had things might have turned out drastically different.

Edward, being the fastest of them all, had arrived first before Carlisle and Emmett. It had taken both Alice and Edward to pry a feral, almost newborn like, Jasper from the mortal. If Emmett hadn't tackled both of them Carlisle feared that the temptation he had seen in Alice's eyes would have consumed her.

What followed came quick after that. Forcing Jasper to unlatch had allowed her blood to flow freely in heavy streams. The smell intoxicated the air and all froze as their eyes darkened and they focused on the squirming and screaming teen.

He had acted fast, scooping her up and taking off while commanding his family to leave. To put as much distance between them as possible. It was tense and for a moment he worried another of his children would slip into the thrall of thirst.

They fought it though and if the moment had been different Carlisle would have felt pride. Alice suggested the Goat Rock Wilderness and within milliseconds Jasper had been thrown harshly in the opposite direction of Carlisle by Emmett.

The sound of them colliding had sounded like thunder. It was that sound, alongside feral growls, that he heard his whole way back to the house. It wasn't until Carlisle had instructed Esme and Rosalie to leave that he realized he was no longer under the influence of Jasper's gift. It had been harshly cut at some point.

Her pain and pleads had led him to suck out Jasper's venom. It was what led him to save her mortal life.

Never in Carlisle's long life had he ever drank human blood before. In that moment he had broken his long record. In that instant he felt a faint strand of newborn lust from many centuries past. It had been like nothing he expected.

There had been pleasure for the briefest of moments, and Carlisle had entertained the idea of sinking his teeth into her arm. Covering Jasper's mark with his own.

He would like to think it was his own self-control that pulled him from such horrible thoughts but Carlisle knew better than that. It had been primarily Jasper's venom burning the inside of his mouth.

Saving her had been difficult. The temptation to drain her was there, deep, deep, deep down.

He had heard the song beneath her skin but had dismissed it. Only then as her blood sat on his tongue and Jasper's venom attempted to burn him did he understand why she had called it dangerously perplexing.

The song he heard was nothing compared to the taste he had experienced. It wasn't sweet or bitter, but hot. It burned his mouth in a different way than his son's venom.

Carlisle's throat constricted and burned as venom pooled in his mouth. He could still taste it, even after hours. Part of him craved it, and it shamed him that he did. He had spit nearly all of it out but some had slipped past his tongue and had traveled down his throat.

He had messed up royally. He had gone against everything he believed, his own morals, and was sure he had disappointed his family on a whole new level. He had done the one thing none thought would ever happen.

Carlisle had drank human blood. It had been a tiny amount but none-the-less he had done it, and his eyes showed it. He truly was a beast.

Her blood shouldn't have done that. It shouldn't have done that to him. He had built his resistance to the desire over centuries.

"Carlisle?"

His beloved Esme called out from behind him, worry evident in her voice. Three minutes hadn't passed since he had shared everything with her. He had returned from the girl's small cottage, five miles from his home, and parked his Mercedes S55 AMG before the two of them had taken off for Goat Rock Wilderness.

It had been shocking, to the both of them, that the girl who had been the center of the chaos lived on the only plot of property Carlisle hadn't been able to obtain all those years ago. They had held onto this residence in Forks for many years and never once had someone lived in the little cottage, at least not while they were occupying the Cullen home.

The property belonged to a family in South Dakota. It had been passed down generation to generation, and never once were any of them willing to sell it to him. They wouldn't even humor the idea.

For a while it worried Carlisle and his family. Their homes were one of the few places they didn't need to hide. He hadn't wanted to jeopardize their safety or comfort but Alice never saw anything bad happening. She never saw the house becoming inhabited. Over time the worry they felt over the little plot of land dwindled.

It was just a bit of land occupied by a well-kept, but always vacant, cottage. Now a teen, who wouldn't share her name and knew of their kind, had taken up residence.

Slowing down their pace, Carlisle glanced in the direction he knew the dark-skinned teen's home to be. He could see it through the trees, even from miles away, and he could hear her perfectly as if he was standing beside her.

She was leading two very edgy donkeys towards a pen with a broken fence. She was mumbling curses to herself about getting it permanently fixed and not procrastinating further.

Evidently, she hadn't gone inside after he had dropped her off. His parental and ever-so doctor side wanted to scold her for staying out in the rain. She was injured and had recently lost quite a bit of blood. She needed to take it easy.

A darker part of him took note that he could still smell her blood. Though unlike before it wasn't as potent. He was sure that had to do with her pendant, even cracked it worked.

Who was she?

"Carlisle?"

Snapping his attention away from the young girl, he looked to his love. Her worry was still evident.

"It's nothing I can't handle, Esme." In inhumanely fast steps he stood before her and pressed a chaste kiss to her temple. "Come, let's go."

* * *

Nichole could envision the fireplace crackling and cackling as it casted long shadows across the room. Its orange and red flames curling and swaying, flickering this way and that, as they burned the dry wood.

It was a bit old fashioned, compared to today's HVAC systems, but that was all right. It was one of those small things that Nichole liked to enjoy.

It would have been something she could have been relishing in now if she had only restocked her firewood, but life was being a bit difficult as of late.

Hissing in discomfort, Nichole repositioned herself from beneath her bundle of blankets. Four hours had passed and true to the good doctor's words the effects of the medication he had given her were fading. The discomfort she had felt before was dull compared to the aches that now plagued her body.

Each movement wasn't without aches but compared to the initial pain from the attack it was just a dull echo. If anything, the worst of it was focused primarily in her right arm and ankle.

It was hard to explain in words the pain of their venom. It had paralyzed her body but had allowed her vocal cords to ring and sing. The memory flashed in her mind and in response her arm pulsed with phantom pains, leaving a bruised and mangled appendage aching as she pulled it closer.

In simple, it had been like a slow-burning fire deep within her veins, and in complex terms, it was exactly what was to be expected from such an outlandish species.

Once upon a time, her curiosity about the unknown would have led her to have near-obsessive tendencies. Now, she forced her foreign and morbid idiosyncrasy into tiny boxes.

Curiosity had killed this cat on far too many unnecessary accounts already.

_"Hey, curiosity might have framed the cat but it didn't necessarily kill it. If it had it wouldn't keep coming back."_

Lips curled upward in bleak humor at the phrase she hadn't heard in a while resonated off its shiny record. It was the same senseless mumble of garbled crap that a pimply teen had spouted off to her three years prior. Yet, that third-rate and half plagiarized line had made it to the front page of her most recent journal.

That was how she kept track. That was how she made sure to not forget.

The book's leather felt soft and delicate beneath her fingers. It was the newest to her growing collection. Another leather-bound book held together by glue and stitching.

There was no writing on the hide of the book. No significant way to separate it from the others on her shelves. From afar, if the basic book covers were removed, they would be almost impossible to tell apart. There was no telling how old most of the ones decorating the shelves were without peeling back the cover and examining the first page. If she randomly grabbed one would Nichole be able to guess which life it belonged to? What year had she written it in? What language had been hand printed onto those yellowing pages?

She could, and she resented being able to.

How many nights had she nearly burned this set? How many nights had she wanted to tear the pages out and scream? How often had she found herself huddled up with them pressed to her chest?

They were her anchors.  
They were her records.  
They were her.

Why did she have to be so attached to them? Why did she worry when they weren't all together? Why did it hurt to think about those that were lost, misplaced, or forgotten?

Why couldn't she just hate them; resent what they meant?

Nails bit into the soft exterior of the journal in her hands. Grey hues that had snapped shut when the burning of unshed tears came unclasped at the taste of copper in her mouth.

Tossing the journal to the side, near the discarded book cover, Nichole took in a deep and shaky breath. Always the emotional one she was.

At least she was done recording today's entry.

 _Ding_.

The ting of a bell snatched Nichole's attention immediately, along with the furry animal lounging on the couch across from her. Only Earl's purring gave away his newly awakened state.

Rolling her eyes at the chubby, cinnamon roll, tabby. Nichole snatched up her phone. She had been awaiting an answer for a while and it seemed finally one had come.

Would you like me to send it through the mail?

It took her a second to respond.

Yes

* * *

**Please leave a comment!  
  
The Twilight Saga is Owned by Stephenie Meyer  
Other Characters and Plot Developments belong to Jemstone6259  
And lastly, a special thank-you to the readers!**


	4. Chapter 4

“ _Darling, you’re already in my veins._ ”  
\- by **unknown** -

* * *

Alice's gift had its limits. She could only see the outcome of a decision after it had been made. It was something she understood all too well. Her visions were never one-hundred percent solid nor permanent since they could easily be replaced with a new one.

Someone second guessing themselves. An alarm not going off. Noticing the blue jay instead of the woodpecker. Anything could cause the initial decision to crumble and break before being reformed. So, then why was Alice so unsettled? Her visions changed all the time.

It wasn't like what happened she hadn't seen coming. Alice had…. just not soon enough. One second she had been with Jasper hunting and the next her vision had been shrouded in distorted shapes and colors. It had been like someone had sped up a video in her head to super sonic speed, to the point she could hardly make sense of what she was seeing.

A human cut of colors that weren't right.

When it moved the background behind it appeared bowed, as if she were looking through a fish-eye lens. Then, as quickly as it began to form it faded, blurred, and fizzled.

She'd see great big childish grins, silent open mouth screams, and blood painted skin of all shades. There would be trees, fields, mountains, and desserts within seconds. Each holding the figure of a woman, lady, child, or wee little baby but just as quickly as it would appear it would disappear. Like a coin in a magic trick.

No ghost like apparition was the same as the last. In one moment the hazy figure would be tall and the next short. Her skin tones ranged from light to dark, as did the hair when Alice caught sight of it. The eyes though they never changed.

Alice could see them the best. It didn't matter what the scene was or what shape the figure was attempting to take. Alice could always see those grey hues. Their particular pale shade never changed. Never got lighter or darker.

It was haunting. Which was ironic to the dainty vampire.

She was the type of creature parents told their children about so they would behave. She was the monster that movies added to spice the horror level up. A demon spun carefully as a mythical creation.

Alice's species was one of the apex predators. There was little they needed to fear. Yet, this mortal girl left her feeling unsettled.

The danger didn't come from the mortal herself but from whatever was lingering in her shadow. Something dark, sinister, and powerful was clinging tightly to the grey eyed human in all of Alice's visions.

It was the second thing that never changed.

She didn't need to see it to know it was there. Alice could feel its presence in the shifting visions.

For the sake of her own mind's sanity Alice had stopped focusing on peering into this particular human's future. Well, at least directly that is. Alice had moved on to seeing if she could see how the human would impact her family after the ... accident that occurred a few hours past.

The results were primarily the same. Alice couldn't tell heads or tails of any of it. The images in her mind would just begin to take shape before a mist of shadows and blinding light would shatter everything. It was what would happen when a new decision would be made and a new future would be forged.

But, with this girl, her future seemed to always be changing. Never settling on one option longer than a fraction of a millisecond.

Brows furrowed as darkened molten gold eyes shifted from the specks of dirt below her feet to the scrunched up face of Edward. Alice didn't need his particular gift to know what was going on in his head. Her brother was frustrated, as they all were. Most likely blaming himself for not getting there sooner, faster, quicker. If he had maybe he could have stopped Jasper. If he had maybe there wouldn't be a newborn with Carlisle and Esme.

That train of thoughts earned Alice a glare from her telepathic family member. She arched an eyebrow at him in response. If he didn't want to hear that then he shouldn't have been in her head.

But, it wasn't like she was doing much to keep him out. She wasn't covering one vision or thought up with another. She had left her mind wide open to him, and it was safe to say that Edward was just as speechless about her visions as she was.

Neither knew what to make of them.

Tearing her unblinking gaze from his, Alice sought out the pair standing not far off. One fuming blonde had stopped shouting death threats half an hour ago. While one giant teddy bear had yet to release his grounding hug-hold on his mate.

If Alice hadn't known better she would have thought Rosalie was more upset over the matter than Jasper — but Alice did know better. More than anyone else in their family when it came to the blonde ex-soldier. Jasper and her had a very special and exceptional bond despite not being mates. It went deeper than the bond either had for anyone else in their family. But, right here and right now it wasn't the only reason she knew.

Jasper's gift, his pathokinesis, was going wild. It was leaking out of him worse than it had in that dark moment. Before, it had been so calculated and under his control. Now, it was like Jasper wasn't even trying to mask his own emotions.

Thirst scorched her throat, as it did his and their other siblings. Every single one of them tensed at the burning and throbbing desire that spring to life in them for the pale eyed girl's blood. Alice could hear Rosalie's jaw clenched so tightly that cracks were forming on her pearly white marble skin. She could hear the hushed whispers from Emmet and practically feel the beady pressure of Edwards eyes on herself asking if Jasper was going to act on his impulses.

Alice's eyes stayed stuck to the male pacing back and forth along the forest ground. Thick strands of curly hair covered darkened eyes.

Then, just as suddenly as his thirst sprung up it was over powered by anger, regret, shame, frustration, disappointment, disgust, and fear. There was so much fear and anger that Alice knew if he didn't stop he was going to drown himself.

If he had the ability to produce tears Alice knew that Jasper would have in that moment.

Forcing her feet to move she took to his side. It took but a brush of fingers against his wrist for Jasper to halt. His dark, almost black, eyes snapped to her smaller appendage before glancing up to meet her gaze.

Wrapping her hand around his she gave him a comforting squeeze. He wasn't alone in this. It wasn't his fault. Things like this happen.

A new wave of tangled emotions washed over her in response.

Jasper just needed a little reminder that no one was going to hold this against him. He hadn't endangered their family on purpose. He hadn't attacked the mortal on purpose. It had all been one big regrettable accident but it wasn't something he needed to beat himself up over. Their lives were too long for him to hold this over his head forever.

She couldn't be certain if they would have to leave Forks or not. She couldn't see any positive or negative outcomes from what had happened. No funerals, no one finding out or getting suspicious about them, there was nothing in any of their futures currently that even sorta hinted that what had happened was going to affect them in any possible way.

Which was strange but not necessarily a bad thing. If what had happened didn't negatively impact them then there would be no reason to leave Forks.

Shifting her thoughts about, so to keep a certain brother out, Alice mentally took note that the biggest reason they had returned to this little rainy town had not changed.

"Carlisle and Esme are about here." Edward’s low voice murmured.

If she would have turned to glance at the telepath she would have taken note of the way his face scrunched up, but she didn't. Alice kept her golden hues locked with Jaspers pitch black orbs that were suddenly beginning to run wild with dread, horror, and sickening realization.

He looked terrified.

It didn't take him long to break their eye contact after that. It took even less time for his attention to snap up to where Carlisle and Esme now stood. They had barely arrived before Edward's shock and relief fluttered through Jasper.

"H-how's that possible?"

Stepping forward, with his hand wrapped tightly about Esme's, their anointed father spoke.

Not half a sentence later Alice's head filled with dead branches littered in crows and ravens, the face of a man marked by age with a well groomed graying beard, and a teen standing somewhere behind him with a mischievous grin painted across his face.

* * *

**Thank you so much for the comments and hearts this far! I felt we all needed a bit of the Cullen's in this chapter!  
  
The Twilight Saga is Owned by Stephenie Meyer  
Other Characters and Plot Developments belong to Jemstone6259  
And lastly, a special thank-you to the readers!**


	5. Chapter 5

_Weak people, Revenge. Strong people, Forgive. Intelligent people, Ignore._  
\- by **Albert Einstein** -

* * *

All throughout the night and into the early hours of the morning it had rained. She had listened to the steady and dull drawl over and over again until the light of a new day intervened. Her dreams had been littered with a mixture of jealousy, tense pessimism, foolish determination, renewed outrage, optimism, and empathetic illusions.

Nichole could still feel the presence of the shadows, the kiss of flames, and the cool compassion of water. She could still see the penguins marching over a cliff made from ice, of a mad cook with her dark red tomato soup, sunlit parks festively decorated, buildings rumbling, and a beggar at the end of main street.

There was death, life, and resurrection time and time again. The endings never changed, always sticking to dotting their i's and crossing their t's every damn time.

Bloodshot eyes closed as she shifted further into the nest of blankets. Nichole had left the couch once to get the pain pills the good doctor had graciously given her. Since then she'd dozed in and out from the comfort of her plushy brown couch.

Even in solitude she masked the turmoil swirling in her veins. None of it made it far on her facial muscles or in the crevasses of her dark skin. Nichole's complexion remained pale and matted, her eyes as steady as if she were idly cutting the grass. She knew how to keep a poker face, but in the past few hours it hadn't been intentional.

Her brain was staggering to keep its five percent battery statues. The short napping sessions were doing her no good either, not with her night terrors. She felt sapped of her energy and there seemed to be no break on her mentality or physiology.

Nichole wanted nothing more than a quiet and subdued moment from the tempestuous cyclone. Was that too much to ask for?

Tucking herself further into the blankets sleep pooled on her eyelids and it softly wooed her into a dream of green hills, snow capped mountains, and decaying bellflowers.

* * *

Icy fingers danced skillfully across her healing flesh. A slight pressure here, a light probe there, and a few questions were asked in a doctorly manner.

"How does this feel?" Was the most common question he asked, and Nichole responded sometimes with words and other times with actions. She'd flinched on a few occasions and hissed in discomfort as tears sprouted but dared not to fall.

Now as they sat in silence the good doctor bandaged and wrapped her back up. Nichole would never admit it but his cool touch felt nice against her heated flesh. Evidently, she had a temperature of 102 degrees. He didn't spare her in details when telling her with careful worded honesty that he wasn't sure if her fever was due to blood loss, a bacterial infection, or was an effect of their deadly venom.

Nichole dismissed it all and was willing to blame her fever on exhaustion and stress. It certainly was a good alternative compared to what Dr. Cullen had suggested. Nichole would rather be boiled alive by a fever then chemically changed into a different species. She may have died a hundred million different ways already but as a supernatural creature hadn't been one yet and if Nichole could help it she'd like to keep it that way.

Dying as a human was simple and she knew the many ways. Dying as anything but was a new and scary concept to her. How much more painful would it be? Would it be similar to her deaths in 1549 or 1756? Nichole couldn't technically recall them but she had written them down in great detail when she was Jose Madeline Monroe in the 18th century and Sancha Ruiz in the 17th century. There were no names to who she was in 1549 or 1756 but the cause of her deaths' had been anything but subtle.

It was safe to say that Nichole wouldn't willingly be around any elephants or offering herself up as a sacrificial offering anytime soon.

Pale hues shifted alongside her mind as cool fingers grazed over a particularly gnarly gash along her hairline. She flinched, an eye closed, as dull pain pulsed. He paused, golden eyes no longer dotted in red, to study her before asking if he could continue. Nichole didn't verbally respond but nodded her head.

It was a bit amazing that such a predator could be so gentle. Truthfully, Nichole still half expected him to crack her skull open against her kitchen island that she had seated herself by. Though it wouldn't have made much sense if he had. If he had wanted her dead then she would have been back in the forest when his - son? - had attacked her. Between then and now there had been plenty of chances to right the wrong but the doc hadn't. Maybe, it was because she reminded him too much of roadkill at the moment.

She had stopped questioning why a while back and decided to just roll with things. If his family of monsters wanted to play the good predator towards humanity then who was she to judge? Besides she never did like Bambi or Bugs Bunny too much. Nichole was more of a Garfield, Eeyore, and Pink Panther fan.

"All right, that should do it." Whether it was a comment directed towards her or just something for himself to say Nichole didn't know. She watched in silence, pale hues tracking his movements, as the good doctor worked on cleaning up his small mess. "I'm going to prescribe a set of antibiotics I'd like you to take twice a day. Along with a prescription of opioids."

Was that what had been in the little plastic bottle he had given her yesterday? There hadn't been many but it would make sense now. Especially, since opioids had a tendency to make you drowsy, mentally foggy, nausea, and constipated. She had been rather out of it after drugging herself with the mystery white pills he had given her.

"I am going to need a parental or guardian signature, since you are not of legal age."

Of course.

"Pass." Nichole croaked, her tongue swollen and thick in her mouth made it hard to speak. She wanted to snarl but settled instead for the simplicity of a scowl and angry eyes. This was her version of a warning, and Carlisle didn't miss its hidden meaning. He didn't hide his own soft frown either.

"Please Miss-" He paused, waited, but still Nichole did not speak her name. Her lips stayed tightly sealed. "I just want to help, but to do so I'm going to need an adult figure's consent for you to be able to take these medications." Bullshit. Lies. Nichole could call that from a mile away. If this family friendly blood sucker wanted something he could get it without consequence or a trail left behind. The unique power of his voice alone could bend and sculpt any situation into something else. His species had what all politicians could only dream of having. 

"All I'm asking for is contact information to someone who has guardianship over you."

The doctor's eyes didn't break from her pale gaze. Seconds passed, as signaled by the clicking of an old clock, and Carlisle was beginning to suspect that this visit was going to be rather unproductive in the aspect of finding out more. Edward had offered to come along as well, and stay hidden outside, but Carlisle had turned the idea down. If the situation had been a bit different and he didn't feel as guilty about the girl’s current condition then he might have allowed it but the notion of allowing his son to poke around her mind felt wrong.

While she wasn't an open book the girl hadn't necessarily done anything to gain his distrust. As far as he could tell she didn't have any ill will towards them for what had happened to her. Heck, their mysterious stranger with hair tipped in blue was barely antsy about the whole thing. If Alice hadn't been so sure that she held no threat to them being in Forks Carlisle most likely would have loaded up his family and moved them on to a new spot.

Wincing, ever so slightly, at the memory from the night prior Carlisle returned his full undivided attention to the girl staring vacantly at him. Her eyes drew him in. They had a vocabulary of their very own, and quite often he found himself startled by their vast depths. What he spotted wrapped up in those grey hues only came from years of fighting in an inhospitable world. It wasn't something he saw on a normal day in the young or old. Which left the question of just what had this teen been through prior to her encounter with Jasper?

Then, she leaned towards him and whispered a single word.

"Pass."

Nichole couldn't tell but Carlisle had expected this to be her answer, not that word precisely but something in its ballfield. Her doors were shut, she didn't trust him, and he couldn't blame her. It was both a good and bad thing. If she had simply accepted his outstretched hand after everything he would have been suspicious of her sudden change in attitude. She hadn't though. She was sticking to her script and holding it together well. Carlisle wished though that she would loosen up just a bit and allow him to help in one of the ways he could.

He really did just want to help. That and know just who she was. Alice had been so adamant about her not being a threat to their safety and them not to hers anymore. If he didn't know any better he'd think his adopted daughter was up to something. Then, again when wasn't she with that special gift of hers. Alice had Carlisle's full trust, because he knew she'd never lead the family down the wrong path with a heart as light as hers.

That's why Carlisle pressed until the teen before him relented and gave him what he wanted.

* * *

Dermestids, or commonly referred to as skin beetles, were carefully being removed from where Kane had placed them weeks prior. He had learned early in his long life that when working with skeletons, especially those who were infused with an abnormal amount of chi during their days of living, was something you did not rush - that and to always wear gloves.

The fourth hour was just passing since the Regent Elder had locked himself in his study, and he was so close to being done. There were just a few more of the small beetles left. Then, he'd be able to move onto the whitening process after assembling the mostly still intact skeleton through his own esse.

Tweezers carefully plucked another dark brown, nearly black, beetle from between thin and fragile bones before dropping the insect into a new glass cage. Where the insect would begin anew on a carefully skinned and dried antelope head. A gift given to Kane's son from the Regent of The Order of the Owl. If his only biological offspring hadn't been currently occupied by their coven's Supreme then Kane's son would most certainly have been put in charge of this grueling ordeal. Atticus was busy but that was to be expected. His son was an extremely gifted medium, he had been since a young age.

Kane worried though. It seemed as if late that their ancestors had been more talkative. There were bags decorating beneath his son's mossy green eyes and a level of insanity twirling in those hazy depths. Had Atticus been able to get any sleep in the last few weeks? Were the voices getting too loud again? Had he had another episode in the last two months Kane wasn't aware of? Why was their Supreme showing so much interest in Atticus now?

What was Kane not being told?

The buzzer of the extension telephone went off like an annoyed rattlesnake. Hues painted the same color as honey zeroed in on the thick leather book to his right as a hand heavily scarred from years of trial and error scooped up the telephone.

"Klahie, residents."

"Good day and pardon this unexpected call. I was hoping to talk to Kane Klahie?"

Leaning back into his chair Kane eyed the jar of maggots sitting beside the aquarium of flesh eating beetles. The mage's ears rang in a pleasant, yet unnatural, manner and like an addict Kane felt a slight crave to hear more. It was also the first warning sign that whatever was speaking on the other end of the line wasn't necessarily another human being. Regular mortals didn't have the ability to manipulate the mind of another through their vocal vibrations.

"You're speaking with him." Kane began, his voice deep. "And, who is this?"

A soft chuckle was what he got in reply. Kane couldn't quite tell without seeing the strangers face if it was from wiry nerves or something else entirely. So, bushy brows scrunched in contemplation.

"Carlisle Cullen. I'm a doctor in Forks, Washington. I was given this number by a young lady who's living by herself a few miles from where my family and I live. She was quite passionate that you would be able to explain to me why a sixteen year old was living on her own out in the middle of nowhere." There was a pause, a breath taken, and the notable faint sound of rain in the background. "I'm unsure if you're aware but she recently had quite a nasty tumble."

"I wasn't aware." He didn't miss a beat, his voice even and the resemblance of him simply talking to an old friend was uncanny. His mind did wonder a bit though at the new bit of information he had just been given. While Kane had suspected that something had happened to Nichole, based on the sole fact she needed a new pendent, he hadn't been given the details. The dear girl had been quite skimpy in that regard but that wasn't anything new.

She had a horrid tendency to cut her emotional cord just so she could survive the days she had remaining. She'd make excuses. Not for herself but everyone else, until they were blaming themselves. Then, she'd leave without a word. It was just the way she handled things and she wasn't going to give it up without a fight. She'd never stop in her ways, not even if in the end it would always cost her a life or two.

Kane worried about the way she saw people as just a way to get by. Sometimes he wished that with each new life she wouldn't remember things from her past lives, but that just wasn't how her curse worked.

It was a nasty and horrible thing she had been condemned to. He doubted Nichole knew this but Kane had known one of her previous selves. He had been a child of barely fifteen summers when her curse had swept in and ended her time as Sandy Payne. She had only been nine at the time but the incident had left a tremendous mark on the ways he viewed things.

He hadn't known then that she was the soul entwined in the forbidden dark arts. It wouldn't be something he'd learn about until years later. Times had changed, a small bit, since then. Unlike before Kane made sure everyone remembered just who she was and just how much they owed her.

"Is she alright?"

Kane knew she was still alive, but still fear ran in loops in his mind.

It didn't help that the caller hesitated before he answered.

"She'll need time to heal but nothing was broken. Though, she might have a few scars from some of the more pronounced wounds she sustained."

"All from a fall?" Kane questioned, an eyebrow raised. What exactly had she been doing to take such a tumble? Honey hues glanced towards the calendar, not too far off, and studied the current year. Running a gloved hand over his well groomed and greying beard Kane exhaled deeply. It was 2003. Which meant if things proceeded as they had been then Nichole could possibly have another seven years.

Was that all?

"Two of my children witnessed the fall. They informed me later on that it had been quite a steep hill covered in a thicket of brush."

Kane's mind snapped back to reality and away from where his thoughts were leading.

"I must ask you to pass on my gratitude to your children then. It seems their unique presence at that moment might have saved her a great deal of grief." Leaning back in his chair Kane recited exactly what the doctor had told him so far in his head. Along with the fact that the being on the other end of the receiver most likely wasn't one-hundred percent human. There was a wide variation of creatures who could manipulate with their silver tongues. The list though was far too long for Kane to simply pinpoint which he was currently on the phone with.

Two species did surface rather quickly in his mind. A siren perhaps, or a crocotta?

"Of course, I'll pass the message on. There is another reason why I called. There are medications I would like to prescribe to her but I'm going to need a guardians signature."

"Certainly, though I am a bit far from Forks, Washington so would it be possible to fax them to me?"

Those were possible monsters but the one Kane was in the phone wasn’t either. Without a book on the two creatures lore before him Kane couldn't say for certain that their manipulation ability could carry across a phone. One of the two, he couldn't recall which, had to insert a toxin into its victim before they could use the influence of their voices and Kane knew he hadn't been infected by anything recently. He hadn't left the coven grounds in weeks and anything supernatural with a brain new better than to cross over into a large group of mage's claimed grounds.

After a quick exchange of numbers so papers could be faxed Kane was signing legal medical documents. He hadn't doubted for a moment that Nichole had hurt herself, but it didn't change that he was surprised to find his caller was truly just a worried doctor. One part of a hidden society of monsters, mind you. Returning to the phone Kane spoke into where the microphone was. 

"They should be arriving soon. I have to ask though. Why are you calling me about this? Does your hospital not have any staff available to do such things? I mean no disrespect but it's rather odd to have the doctor himself do the calling, is it not?"

There was a shuffle on the other end of the phone that Kane could hear.

"I mentioned before that her fall had been close to my home hadn't I?" A simple yes from Kane had the doctor speaking on, with his silver laced tongue. "There was a lot of blood at the time that I feared if she had any life threatening wounds we wouldn't make it to the hospital in time so I took to using the equipment I keep at home. I understand if this leaves you with worries, or anger, about how I handled the accident but I guarantee I took all precautions at the time. Mr. Klahie if you mind me asking what is your relationship with her? I can see you marked extended family on the relationship column." The doctor was quick to shift their conversation topic, and Kane took note of that. Though the aged mage had to give it to the doctor. He certainly could do it smoothly. It didn't raise any warnings within Kane

"She's my niece, daughter of my late wife's brother." Kane could play that game. He was after all a mastermind behind the chessboard.

"Is this the reason she lives two states away?"

"That is a rather personal question for a doctor to ask is it not?"

"Not necessarily, one of the forms I faxed over had to do with treatment of minors and doctor to patient confidentiality. Though, I guess I do owe an apology because of how that could be interpreted. I suppose the fatherly side of me comes out when I worry. If you don't wish to answer it is completely understandable but I have to ask why you allow your niece to seclude herself. From the little I've interacted with her she has shown signs of a few possible psychiatric disorders." Sometimes it takes a few more words to say something just right. For the doctor his words were soaked in a concerning kindness that came to him all too naturally. It was how Kane knew the doctor, no matter his species, was indeed a father. A caring one at that. It was parental instincts that told Kane this. One of those things you couldn't quite explain but just knew.

"My niece is more than capable of taking care of herself, but I understand your worries. They are similar to what I faced when she first proposed moving out and living on her own. Just like everyone else she has her demons, and this is one of the ways she has decided to battle them." Or, her way of more precisely hiding from them as they hunted her down like cattle.

Then, their conversation took a one-eighty.

"You're aware that it's illegal for an underage child to not be attending school, correct." Doctor Cullen was making his next move forcing Kane to respond and take immediate action.

Somewhere behind him something made of glass cracked just as the skin on the top of his hand tore and bled profusely beneath the plastic gloves he was still wearing. He did nothing to reason with the sudden burn of pain, other than to curl his wounded hand into a fist.

"I'm well aware, but again I have to ask what does this have to do with my niece's accident." The irritation that flared did not meet Kane's tone, as memories of long arguments with Nichole survived. There was no reason Carlisle Cullen, doctor of Forks, Washington, would know how sore of a subject he had just touched upon.

In the minutes following Carlisle reworded exactly what the newest mystery in his life had told him about her current association circling around the world of education, or their lack of one. Kane had sat in complete silence as he listened through Carlisle's speech that boarded dangerously on the line of a lecture.

If there was one thing Kane would not stand for it was being told how to raise his children, and while Nichole wasn't biologically his or in any sense of the fashion related to him Kane still viewed her as a daughter. If things could have gone his way she wouldn't have left Brookings, but that wasn't how things had gone. She was complicated, her curse was complicated, and she was by far no child. He had nothing to hold her down, nothing to force her to stay. The debt his bloodline, his coven, owed out weighed anything he might think he would be entitled to do. No matter how justified it might be. That thought didn’t mean he’d let everything she’d do slide. He’d keep pestering and insisting till she either was gone or Kane himself was. 

Kane hated to admit it but Nichole had given up. She was just idly letting her lives pass as she awaited her death days. It killed him to know that no matter what he did it wouldn’t matter. There was no breaking her curse, and he had tried - for years. His life was nearly halfway over and what did he have to show for it? In what ways has he been able to help her? Ease her pain and suffering?

"It seems I owe you a debt Doctor Cullen." Kane didn't often say that to anyone, but in that instant the Regent felt that a debt was indeed what he would owe this creature. If not right that second then eventually down the line. "It seems we'll be able to speak face to face because I believe I'm due a visit with my niece. It appears there is quite a bit we still need to discuss."

After expressing good wishes their conversation ended and Kane was left with the static of an empty line. His wounded hand’s fingers oscillated across numbered buttons and as his end of the line rang Kane leaned back in his seat. First, he'd call Nichole and then he'd deal with his departure preparations. Hopefully, the coven wouldn't be too cantankerous this time around when it came to helping the one they owed such a great debt too. He'd hate to remind them just why they owed the little lost soul so much, **_again_**.

* * *

Kane should have just left right after his talk with Dr. Cullen. He shouldn't have wasted time calling Nichole, packing needed possessions, printing paper work, or seeking out the Supreme. Be damned the consequences when he returned but anything had to be better than this.

Leathery and scarred hands gripped the hand crafted, dark oak, cane he used to lean on as Kane watched his ancestral medium of an idiot son from the ground level. The boy was holding down one of his oversized sun hats with two hands while grinning unnaturally towards the cloudy sky above. Kane's expression was of one being forced to endure an unpleasant odor at the sight of his son idly standing outside the coven's personal jet.

"Atticus." The timber of his baritone and rolling voice left the plan attendants trepidatious, as Kane eyed Atticus sourly.

"My deepest apologies, dear Regent of The Order of Dagon, sometimes I just can't help but be a bit extra." Atticus's gaze went unwavering and unabashed. His mossy green orbs travel not far from the cloudy sky above. It was just so quiet here compared to back home in Brookings, South Dakota. The voices of the dead were not as harsh, but they were still there lingering in the shadows of his mind.

Finally, tilting his head down and with a skip to his step he descended down the stairs. Sweeping past his father, spine straight and chin held high, Atticus fled for their rental vehicle. He was finding it of the utmost difficulty to contain his bubbling excitement while knowing that soon he'd be seeing his favorite negative Nellie.

Kane followed a few steps behind, his eyes on the birds etched in ink on his son's neck.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment and heart!**  
  
 **The Twilight Saga is Owned by Stephenie Meyer**  
Other Characters and Plot Developments belong to Jemstone6259  
And lastly, a special thank-you to the readers!


	6. Chapter 6

_Don’t break a bird’s wing and then tell it to fly._  
\- by **Najwa Zebian** -

* * *

Forks, Washington, was a dreary and unremarkable little thing. It was overly green, too suburban, and most certainly had an unfortunate case of simple minded fools. Atticus didn't need to read a pamphlet to know this. He simply needed to spend a bit of time with the dead that still lingered as they drove through the outskirts of this insipid little place. The dead didn't fly, so during their flight most had been quiet, but here their voices weren't too loud. Still, the constant mumbling causes a slight ache behind his ears.

How come Nichole had chosen such a dull place to live this life out in? Couldn't she have picked somewhere closer to their coven of mages? He and his father may have hated the blasted cat who had bonded itself to her but that didn't mean she had to move states away.

Tossing such questions to the back of his mind Atticus had the door of his father's rental car thrown open before Kane had the vehicle in park. His smile grew of its own accord as he jogged towards the door. His body practically vibrating with giddiness at their soon to be reunion.

The closer he got to the door the quieter the voices in his head became. It was another of the many reasons he enjoyed her presence.

It had been years since Atticus, or Kane, had seen Nichole. Neither had ever visited, upon her request of course, that and the anticipation plus the noises of the equine yards away had Atticus's fist practically pounding against the dark door. From the corner of his eye a porch light hung forgotten and covered in cobwebs, but it vanished as the door slowly opened and a familiar blank face was revealed. The luggage he had been dragging along was left forgotten at the doorway as Atticus embraced Nichole in a tight hug. If she wouldn't have groaned out in discomfort Atticus would have most certainly plucked the girl from the floor and spun the two of them in a circle.

Shoving his face into her thick, curly, mane of hair Atticus mumbled his welcoming. Only to retract his face quickly as an unchecked body odor assaulted and burned the inner walls of his nose.

"I still don't understand why you had to come out?" Nichole worked on prying herself from his clingy grasp, while addressing an approaching Kane. "It can't be due to the proximity of the Cullen family."

Atticus rolled his eyes before pulling away and stationing his hands on his hips. "Nope. No. No way. Family protects each other, especially from vermin! Do you know what an inhuman could do to yo-" Atticus had been so ecstatic to finally be reunited with his personal little Debby Downer that he hadn't taken into consideration the fact that she had been in close quarters with inhumans. His eyes raked over the small cuts, dark bruises, and pearly white bandages painting her pasty skin. Had she been attacked? What happened to her arm? Why was she favoring one ankle over the other?

 _'Who did this?'_ The old wooden beams in the house groaned as Atticus's emotions got the better of him. A smack from his father's cane had him gathering back the reins of his abilities.

A silence filled the space they occupied as green orbs met bloodshot grey for the first time in a long while.

"Healing Goo! I'll get right on it!" Atticus's frown turned upside down and with a chirp the ancestral medium twisted on his heels and vanished back through the doorway and towards the car. Only to linger and add to a rancid smelling Nichole. "Clean yourself as it gets prepared and I unpack a few things!"

Nichole stood still. She was not in the least but motivated to shower or bathe, even after being insulted so cheerfully by the clingy mage. Yet, after a meaningful look from Kane and a comment about having to make a call Nichole took the hint and began making her way towards the bathroom. This was one of many prime examples of why she disliked having people over.

After watching the young teen disappear into a room Kane pulled out his phone and redialed the number of Carlisle Cullen. Despite it being late afternoon Kane had no interest in meeting the other party until later, possibly tonight or tomorrow, after he had gotten rid of some of the jet lag from their sudden flight. His son, filled to the brim with trunks and cases, stumbled back into the warm abode just as the line was picked up.

"This is Kane Klahie-'' What followed Atticus didn't pay attention to. He had no interest in hearing only half a conversation, especially with his mind so busy buzzing with dull voices and his own thoughts.

Atticus had only grabbed the bags marked to be carrying the travel equipment and ingredients. He was quick to pull out a bowl, with a decorative melt of gems mixed within the stone. Then, up came another case to sit on the dining island. Herbs and things with abnormal amounts of life force became visible as Atticus popped the case wide open. His eyes scanning faster than his hands could move.

The pressed petals of a chamomile flower, and leaves of a feverfew flower.

A thick red jar of evening primrose oil folded into the sap of a dragon blood tree.

And, lastly two vials of moon pool water.

Oh, and not to forget the flour. Without it everything would be wasted. Like making potato soup but without the potatoes. An utter failure.

The ingredients went into the bowl one after another. The pestle crushes and ground the substance into a thick lumpy paste on its own through Atticus's magic. Then, as the concoction finished the pestle removed itself before fingers caked in flour sunk in.

Goosebumps crawled from his fingers to his toes, leaving his body in a pulsating warmth. No words were spoken or chanted as the balance was kept with an offering of a small brown bird. Something Atticus had caught right outside. 

His heart did not squeeze in remorse when the wiggling little creature stopped struggling and became limp. Its small squishy corpse stayed curled in his left fist, until the paste turned gooey and lost its pale red coloring. Then, and only then, did Atticus tossed the lifeless bird into Nichole's open trash can.

After that came the most important task of all. Moving the bowl to the side and washing his hands Atticus set to cooking their lunches. Little could compete with his glorious oven roasted peanut butter and jelly with ham in the middle sandwiches.

* * *

Atticus watched, from his seat at the island, and ate away at his late lunch. His hunger had moved from the bottom of his belly to the back of his mind. Something that most likely had to do with seeing the vampire bite on Nichole's arm. The torn flesh stitched back together and dark skin discolored by still spreading discoloration of bruising was slightly nauseating and highly irritating.

It angered him, there was no doubting that, but unlike before his hold on his abilities wasn't slipping. In a few hours her wounds would be healed and if with any luck he'd be able to talk her into getting the hell out of Washington. Nichole wouldn't have to return with them to the coven if she didn't want to. Atticus would be more than happy to simply roam around with her, if she’ll let him. She helped keep the dead at bay, he cared for her like the sister he never knew he wanted, and Nichole could be fun. One just had to get past the harsh words, cold looks, and moody mood swings.

Nichole had seen so much, done so much, over the course of her many lives. Atticus knew from the records the coven kept on her, ones he most certainly didn't have warrant to see. Such as her lives in Brazil and Spain. As well as during the dark age, when America was becoming its own nation. There were too many to count. Atticus knew it was one thing to read another's life, or lives, and then actually know them. More than half of those he had read she didn't remember. Whether it was her curse or simply her soul protecting itself the memories were locked away in her subconscious. Atticus wondered how many more memories of past lives she had triggered since the last time they had seen each other.

She was important to him yet Atticus felt that he barely knew her. In his whole eighteen years of life Nichole had only physically been a part of it for sixteen days, back in January of 2000. As stupid as it sounded, and cheesy undoubtedly, there had been a connection between them. Something he had been hyper aware of because of his special ability. Evidently being a highly leveled ancestral medium had such perks. He wasn't sure exactly how it worked, neither did his father or the supreme, but something within his blood had been lit the day they met.

It wasn't like she was some long lost friend, and the feelings of her being something of a sister for him didn't come till later, but what he felt was more between loyalty hybrid with utter devotion. The best explanation he had gotten was that it all came down to the blood promise their ancestors had made. What that promise was or why their ancestors had made it was a questionable topic that seemed to have been forgotten over the centuries.

Something about one of her other selves being the reason death didn't grace the elders of the past during witch trials was the most popular. It was that or she once was a witch herself and had saved the Salem and Haven mages, and in doing so had given her life for the creation of the Saaven Coven.

His elders did little to teach of the past, especially about the little cursed soul involvement, but a select few still sought to remind the coven just why they should still be grateful to Nichole. His father was a prime example, as was their Supreme.

His gaze shifted as goosebumps rose on his skin. It didn’t take long to find that the source of the peering belong to a familiar fat tabby. The felines unwavering and unabashed yellow eyes flickered between the two intruders before hissing.

Shriveling up his nose in disdain Atticus wiggled his fingers at the cat and watched in anticipation as the creature howled before darted off to who knows where to hide.

"Atticus, leave the cat be." It was a hollow warning, with no real consequences behind it, but no less an order from his father.

"No harm no foul. I simply wished to play as we used to." Flexing his fingers Atticus waited for the tingling of the cats stink eye to leave his body. Animals like the damn he-devil had too much life energy in them, too much power and often too little control over their abilities. Though it was rather uncommon for a tabby to be as blessed as he was. It made Atticus wonder, countless times, just what he had done to achieve such a statue. It would have made more sense if the tub-of-lard had been a white cat turned black cat by a new moon or a black cat turned white by a full moon. Earl was neither and as far as Atticus could tell the cat hadn't ever been affected by the phases of the moon.

"So when do we get to meet these vegetarian vampires?" Nichole had shared quite a bit and after hearing her story it left Atticus anxious to meet these vampires that refused to feast upon the blood of mortals. Their way of life went against everything he had ever read or been taught, but it wasn't a new concept. There were journals, far too few, that held an account or two of a run in with vegetarian vampires. Those who choose to eat from animals over humans.

This wasn't the real reason Atticus was excited though. Vampires were more common than most thought, their species could rival the count of leprechauns in Scotland, but Atticus was more interested in the big hairy dogs that once inhabited these lands. Yes, Atticus knew all about the werewolves or shapeshifters in the area. He just wondered if the people with their bloodline had forgotten about their heritage or if they were just awaiting those dormant to awaken.

Oh, what Atticus would do to be able to have a chat with one of those fine beasts.

"Nichole and I will be meeting Mr. Cullen and his wife tomorrow, and you will be staying here."

"What?" The word left his mouth before Atticus could process what his father had said. "What? Why?"

"Don't whine." Kane stated as he checked the bandages wrapped around Nichole's ankle one last time. "You are a medium, a powerful one at that Atticus, and these creatures have been around for many years. We do not know of the dead that cling to them, and you are still in a sensitive position after your last task with our Supreme. You must mind your own health if you are to stay alive. Besides, I have a task that we will begin tonight and will need the aid of a mage throughout the night and into tomorrow if we are to finish it before leaving for home by the end of this."

There was a creek of a beam and a fire, newly lit by his father, that flickered a few degrees warmer before dying back down to normal. Atticus was irritated, that much was obvious by the magic that coursed uncheck through the room, but this was how things had to be and both mages knew it. Kane more so than Atticus.

If Kane's father knew how soft he was being on Atticus he knew the man would be rolling in his ashes. It was Kane’s own childhood and the influence of his late wife that had him being so lenient on his son. Ancestral mediums, especially high level ones such as Atticus, rarely lived long and fruitful lives. Soul not at peace, upset ancestors, and demons were constantly searching for ways to possess such people.

It was why Kane was against his son being near the Cullens. Even with Nichole and her curse there to ward off souls not at rest Kane couldn't risk his son having another episode, not so soon after doing those rituals for the Supreme. In all honesty Kane shouldn't have even allowed his son to join him on the trip down.

Being so far away from their coven was dangerous. The protection their home offered for Atticus was weakened. All of it made Kane uneasy, and he could only pray to the Goddesses that this would be swift and peaceful. 

"That's enough Atticus. I have made up my mind and you will do as I instruct." Kane made eye contact with his son till Atticus reluctantly nodded his head and grumbled beneath his breath. At least the boy still had the common sense to listen to him. "Am I clear." It was not a question, and both teens in the room could hear that. Nichole watched in silence as Kane gathered up his trash and the bowl of leftover goo.

"Peachy perfectly clear as the bottom half of a buzzy buzzing bumblebee."

"Oh, and Atticus."

"What."

"Respect the sacrifice and bury it."

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment and heart please!**

**The Twilight Saga is Owned by Stephenie Meyer**   
**Other Characters and Plot Developments belong to Jemstone6259**   
**And lastly, a special thank-you to the readers!**


	7. Chapter 7

_“They witnessed her destruction,_   
_Then were left to wonder why,_   
_She saw nothing but darkness,_   
_Though the stars shone in her eyes,_   
_But maybe they’d forgotten,_   
_When they failed to see the cracks,_   
_That a star’s light shines the brightest,_   
_When it’s starting to collapse.”_

_\- by_ _ **e.h** _-

* * *

The cottage was a place of magic the following morning. As Atticus stumbled down the hallway leading to the main room and kitchen he could feel the pulsing of energy beneath his skin, causing the hairs on his arms to bristle. They really should have opened a window or two so the collecting residue of energy could circulate out, but with it constantly raining off and on throughout the night and early morning they hadn't been able to. So, instead they let it build up. A gathering like this wouldn't do any physical harm to them but it might affect the plants or cause anxiety in the demon-devil-cat.

Rubbing his stiff shoulder and flexing his fingers Atticus tottered into where Nichole and his father were. Nichole sat at the dining island with one of her journals and a pen, recording as she liked to do, and his father was sitting cross legged in Nichole's living room. The fireplace that had been roaring when Atticus had last been up a few hours prior had died out and was now nothing more than a pile of cinders and chard wood.

Had he slept through his shift?

Ignoring the ticking of a broken clock Atticus turned his attention to one of the windows. The sun was up and the clouds were casting shadows outside, but at least it was no longer raining. Last he'd been awake it had still been dark and the only light outside was being casted from the lightning above.

Yep, he most definitely had slept through his shift.

Not bothering to apologize or explain himself Atticus made his way to where his father still sat, silent and in concentration. What they were doing wasn't necessarily legal in their community but at the same time it wasn't illegal. Pendants of protection were common and universal and making them wasn't the issue. The problem stemmed from the casting itself.

Seeing as Nichole wasn't some average mage, gypsy, psychic, or someone banished the protection seals on her pendants weren't the same. Nichole didn't have a drop of magic in her mortal body. She was simply a normal human. If the spell wasn't strong enough it wouldn't be effective and if it was too strong her curse would interfere and damage it in some way. For her making a pendant of protection and concealment was strenuous and an unusually long process, but time wasn't a luxury they currently had and neither was the option of simply repeating the casting from before.

Her curse was ever changing and adapting.

Making her pendent involved powerful magic, a constant flow of products with extra-abnormal chi energy, and the blood of the wearer and caster (or casters in this situation.

Taking his place opposite of his father Atticus waited for the exchange to begin. The process of channeling a casting from one mage to another. The pendent sat in the same bowl Atticus had used to make the healing goo the night prior. Unlike before there was nothing being ground or anything that needed physical contact. Only the constant flow of spiritual energy, which was invisible to the naked eye, and the occasional dribble of blood.

"Nicky, your hand please." Atticus called out for the curly haired teen as he unshielded a blade sitting on the ground. The crystalized knife with the Triple Goddesses carved onto its hilt glinted up at him as the fluorescent lights reflected within its prisms.

Feet shuffled and within seconds Nichole was squatting at his side, her right hand held out for him. Taking it Atticus pricked one of her digits before doing the same to a finger of his father. If they weren't attempting to speed the spell up and his father wasn't blessed with a natural talent in blood magic they wouldn't have needed fresh blood during each swap.

Closing his eyes Atticus focused on the beating of his heart and the rhythm of his breaths. He let his mental barriers down and allowed a link to click into place as he pricked his own finger and let a few drops slip into the bowl. It felt as if a sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, rustling his hair and tickling his skin with its coolness, as the exchange was completed with a few drops from Nichole and his father.

Mossy green orbs stayed shut as he focused on keeping the circuit of energy constant. Letting it drift through his body and into the pendent before casting out what was not going to be used. He should have added more lemon grass to the altar holding the albino jaguar's heart and crystalized ribs of an oldfield mouse. Hopefully his father would do so without Atticus having to tell him.

It was one of those things he was a bit better at noticing than his old man. Something about being a necromancer allowed castors such as Atticus to have a finer grasp on the smaller details of spells, things that often slipped past others if they didn't pay close enough attention.

Then, suddenly Atticus’s skin crawled as his father added more of what was needed.

* * *

Nearly an hour passed before Nichole was pulled from her journal once more. She had been in the mists of sketching what was haunting her conscious and unconscious mind. There wasn't much she could remember beside a head of blond hair, a cool touch, and a feverish poison burning through her veins. She felt if she thought harder, pushed further, she could unveil the vampires eyes or see a more detailed picture of him. Anything that wasn't just a blur of dirty blonde locks.

Setting down her pen Nichole ran a hand over her right arm, letting her fingers skim over the raised lines of her scar. Memories of an attack from a life before briefly flashed in her mind. There had been a scream muffled by blood pooling in her mouth and draining into her throat, a masculine chuckle, and plain walls that had been painted either a creamy white or something with a purplish tint.

She had spent a few hours going through the journals she had on hand for such a life but hadn't found any mention of it. Was it even one she had recorded? Or, was it one of those she hadn't remembered enough to bother recording?

It bugged her because Nichole liked to know. She liked to have a sense of control over such aspects. Everything else in her never-ending life was chaotic and uncontrollable. She only wished to have each of them recorded and kept safe.

But, that wasn't how things worked. She wasn't supposed to remember every single detail. Was it because of her curse or her own soul trying to protect itself? She didn't like it whatever it was that was for sure.

Glancing at her phone to see the time Nichole closed her journal and tucked the pen away in the worn binding. In minutes she would be leaving to visit Sir Cullen and Madam Cullen once more, but this time with trusty and virtuous Kane. He hadn't needed to brief her over his conversation with the good doctor. He had only needed to notify her that they would be leaving and meeting with two at nine o'clock in the morning.

Pale grey hues drifted to the mage with the neon blue beanie on his head. Atticus eyes were closed and his brows smooth of any frustrations. Unlike them she couldn't feel the magic residue that was gathering in her little home. She had just noticed that some of her fruits and plants were shriveling. Earl, the cat, had even become skittish than usual.

The pad of her thumb rubbed small circles along the pointer finger that had been pricked all throughout the late afternoon yesterday and well into the new day. It was healed, no scar or evidence left behind with the help of the healing goo.

The sound of footsteps had Nichole looking up towards Kane. He was returning from the guest room dressed to the T in a silver-grey suit and black trench coat. His cane clicked just as softly as his dress shoes as he walked, and when he drew closer she slipped off her seat.

"Ready to leave?"

Instead of responding verbally Nichole nodded. She was as ready as she could be to leave her little home and be dragged to a meeting with the leaders of a coven of vampires.

"We'll return shortly, Atticus."

No response from the mage on the floor, but Nichole swore she could hear him angrily mutter on about how unfair the situation was. How he had to stay behind with a fat tabby cat while the two of them got to go on another adventure. If it wasn't for how serious Atticus took magic she would have expected him to be throwing a tantrum, or at least arguing his way into joining them (as he had tried to do the afternoon prior). That was how he had been back when they first met. She was pleasantly surprised to see he had outgrown such behavior, to a degree, over the years they had been separated. Growing up in a coven and being a human ouija board had definitely helped in his mentality maturing faster.

It was safer this way for him Nichole had learned. She wasn't sure what that supreme of theirs had needed of Atticus but whatever had happened resulted in the walls between the living and the dead weakening. Nichole didn’t understand why their leader would put such stress and vulnerability to possessions on someone like him. If his ability was so impressive and important then why risk losing him?

Shaking her head Nichole mentally agreed with the other reason Kane didn’t want Atticus to come along. Overstimulation could be just as dangerous as a hole in the veil. Their argument had been heated, but Nichole had to silently side with Kane on this matter. Atticus wasn’t in peak condition, and none of them knew what sort of dead had clung themselves to the vampires.

It would be for the best if things resolved peacefully, and everyone went back to how they were before. Nichole knew better than to hope for that though, so with one last glance at the younger mage she followed after Kane.

As she crossed through the threshold of her home Nichole snatched the umbrella Mrs. Cullen had kindly given to her. Nichole had full intentions of returning it to the beauty — because keeping it felt like she would owe the woman something later down the road, and Nichole has no interest in that.

* * *

The last time she had been here it had been raining - hard. Even with the sky clouded over and a light drizzle there was no denying the statues of the inhabitants. From the foundation to the wide open windows that decorated the vast walls it all left Nichole with a sense of unease and impatience that she couldn't shake. It was far too welcoming and was far too open for her to feel comfortable.

Nichole's body trembled, as if she had just been dunked in a tub of cold water, when slips of images flashed in her mind. How many times had she been ignorant and fallen into darker clutches just because something was pretty on the outside? You'd think she would have learned at some point but yet here she was about to walk right back into the womb of a monsters nest.

Clutching the umbrella tightly, till her knuckles turned white, Nichole took a deep breath before stepping out of the warmth of the car. Pale hues flickered from the windows to the two individuals standing in an open doorway.

The Cullen's stared back, and it seemed to take a few seconds for them to respond like humans would. Kane was at her side before either of them waved.

"If I'd know you were going to just stop and stare I'd have waited in the car."

Nichole didn't respond, or spare a glance to Kane, she grasped the umbrella tighter and held her chin a tad bit higher before moving her way towards the entrance of the house.

"Welcome, I'm Carlisle Cullen and this is my wife Esme. You must be Kane Klahie. It's a pleasure to be able to meet you in person, and I hope you had no issues finding our home." The good doctor shook hands with Kane, both men's faces plastered in fake smiles as greetings were made, but when he turned and offered the cold appendage to Nichole she only stared at it. When it became clear she would not be shaking his hand the good doctor let it slip back down to his side.

"You seem to have healed since the last time we spoke, miss." It was an observation, a remark, and a question wrapped all within one sentence. Golden eyes that had been scanning her flesh hadn't gone unnoticed by Nichole, especially when they hesitated on the jagged mouth shaped scar. To her side Kane raised an eyebrow.

"The color in your cheeks has returned as well! You were so pale before. How are you feeling? Better?" The beauty's soft voice and kind smile left Nichole's shoulders tense and stomach in knots.

"I'm fine."

"It's magic." Kane explained. "Healing to be precise. I may not be a natural born earth mage but I know enough to heal wounds and stop infections. I merely sped up the process of her body's natural healing properties to close the open wounds, though unfortunately it doesn't erase scarring."

Shock didn't register on their hosts' faces. Instead something more along the lines of surprise and understanding. Carlisle and Esme had been able to smell what the middle aged man was miles before the warlock had arrived. It was an unappetizing kind of smell that had their noses wrinkling in disdain. Much like the smell of human food or the animals that wondered planet earth. What neither expected was that the contact the nameless girl had given Carlisle belonged to that of a mortal coven of witches and warlocks. She didn't have their scent— their natural defense against those of the supernatural kind.

Golden eyes shifted between the two mortals. He was looking for the similarities that often came with sharing similar DNA. Yet, Carlisle couldn't find anything. The two humans were as different as could be. He didn't mean for his thoughts to reflect racist but their difference was as obvious as black and white. Which left Carlisle to wonder if the teen Jasper had attacked was adopted.

Breaking the brief silence Carlisle smiled warmly again and invited everyone inside and out of the weather. Kane nodded his head in thanks and gave a pointed look towards the nameless girl, who had stayed mostly silent the entire time. Carlisle couldn't tell if he found it entertaining, worrisome, or disrespectful how easily she seemed to be indifferent to their attempts at interacting.

"I've brought back your umbrella." It was a simple sentence, a bit random but one he knew was coming because of the item the teen was clinging to. Esme, who had given the umbrella to her a few days prior, took it back slowly with a kind smile and a brief thank you. Carlisle didn't know if either of the mortals knew that they didn't need the umbrella, and until that day it had just been sitting in a closet for decoration. One of the many things they kept around to make them seem more mortal, like their camping gear that still had all its tags on it.

What neither of the vampires expected was for Kane to jab the teens foot with his cane. 

"Stop being a brat and introduce yourself.” Kane didn't draw out what he was saying but he did keep an eye on the faces of the Cullens. He didn't have proof but he had a gut feeling that Nichole hadn't introduced herself. If she had Kane was certain that one of their hosts would have said her name at some point. Instead she had just been referred to as miss. Even as he thought back on the conversations he had over the phone with the vampire Kane couldn't remember him ever addressing Nichole by her name. 

"Nichole." 

The couple's expressions never changed as eyes shifted quickly between the two humans.

Nichole stood stone still, or as still as she could. For a moment Kane thought she wouldn't do as he said and would ignore him. Something she was annoyingly good at. Lifting his cane he began to make the movement of jabbing the top of Nichole's foot again when suddenly she shifted a few inches away with a huff and a silent snarl.

It was impressive how quickly Nichole masked her irritation and attitude. She smiled, too widely, and tilted her head a bit to the side as her eyes narrowed — scratch what he had just said about masking anything.

"It seems I've been an insolent little brat, so now to make up for it I'll be making a meaningless apology and introducing myself." Nicole wondered if it would upset Kane more if she mockingly bowed. "So, lets begin! Hello, my name is Nichole Dante and I'm sixteen, as you already know. I ran away from my parents, who were living in Colorado at the time, because I'm cursed! Now without further delay I will inform you that as kind as it was for you to save me it was an utterly meaningless thing to do, but hey no worries-" Before Nichole could go on a wrinkled hand come up and smack her harshly on the back of her head. It didn't send her stumbling but the startle had temporarily shut her up.

It wasn't that neither of the Cullen's did know what to say next, both had questions of their own, but they were just too surprised - or shocked maybe?

"Cursed?" Esme seemed to find her voice before Carlisle could. Though from the expression on their faces both mortals knew they would be wanting an explanation to what Nichole had let slip, and it was a conversation Kane wasn't sure he wanted to have with strangers.

Nichole's curse was complicated, in both its working and the reasoning behind it. He was a bit surprised Nichole had willingly let it slip into the light but at the same time not. She was a fickle thing and her curse was something she handled oddly. Sometimes she wanted to keep it hidden and other times it seemed Nichole didn't care if the whole world knew about it.

"I do believe there is a bit we need to discuss."

"It certainly appears that way doesn't it." Carlisle retorted, golden hues not letting go of pale greys.

* * *

**I had so much more planned for this chapter but with so much content I felt splitting it in half would be better! We have a little way to go before Jasper shows back up! Thank you everyone who has hearted and left a comment, it really makes my day! Until later~!**

  
**The Twilight Saga is Owned by Stephenie Meyer**

**Other Characters and Plot Developments belong to Jemstone6259**

**And lastly, a special thank-you to the readers!**


	8. Chapter 8

_She was stuck between I don’t know,_  
 _I don’t care, and I don’t give a fuck_  
 _\- by_ ** _anonymous_** _(with slight alterations)_ -

* * *

It hadn't taken long for the good doctor and the beauty to invite their guests inside. Nichole hadn't wanted to come but she was more than glad to step back into their home if it meant getting out of the dense mist. Her hair was already a tangled mess of curls and the weather wasn't helping any. If she didn't sit down and comb through it soon she'd be forced to chop a large chunk of it off.

"Where's the rest of your nest?" Kane asks, his eyes scanned for other cold bodies but besides Carlisle and Esme there were none to be see. Nichole settled a few steps away from the three, her own gaze finding itself fixed on a display near the stairs.

It had her briefly pausing to appreciate what felt like was a veiled witty joke encased in a display of colorful graduation caps. Somehow, the display in a home of immortals reminded Nichole of her collection of journals hidden behind simple book covers.

"Goat Rock Wilderness, it's well over one-hundred and fifty miles away." Golden hues swapped back and forth between the two humans, as the mage shot a warning look towards Nichole. Esme, who stood at her husband's side, watched as the young teen separated herself further from the small group. A frown forming on her lips. "We thought it would be for the best until things were resolved."

"How many members are in your coven?"

"Seven, including my wife and I."

"When was the last time you were here in Forks?"

"1947." Carlisle replied, before inquiring. "Has anyone besides Miss Dante ever resided in the cottage? When we first decided to settle here there had been a little lot of land that we couldn't obtain. Over the centuries our offers on the property were always rejected, by a family in South Dakota. Is my assumption correct that the property belongs to your family, Mr. Klahie?"

"That's correct. It is one of the many around the world that have been passed down generation after generation. We keep track of them and keep them maintained."

"Around the world?" A soft voice intervened, with an overlace of concern and curiosity to her words. "Does this have to do with the curse you spoke of?" Nichole flinched and her heart leapt in her chest at how close the beauty was. She had been oblivious to the women's soft steps. The opposite could be said when Nichole shuffled away. It was only to put an appropriate amount of space between the two of them, but Nichole could see how her actions affected Mrs. Cullen. It was all in her golden peepers — they spoke in volumes.

Instead of apologizing, or better yet acknowledging the twist in her gut, Nichole did what she knew Kane wouldn't. It was her curse after all, and she could be a fickle little thing when it got involved.

"I die a lot-" Her first words were like being unexpectedly popped by a wet kipper, and left not just the beauty blinking from shock. "-and instead of staying dead I'm born again. Think of it as a never ending cycle that is always offering different identities to be worn. There is this effect caused by the curse, or my own soul working to protect itself, where in some lives I don't have any memories of what has already occurred. Just as there are lives where I do remember. This time around it took some time before I began to remember, but when things began to come back and I could make sense of it I left."

There was a pause, a break, as Nichole caught her breath and gathered her thoughts. That and the looks she was receiving were beginning to irritate her. Vivid yellow eyes were attempting to probe into her mind to make sense of what she was spouting. It was clear they were between being skeptical of what her and Kane were preaching and the possibility of how severe the situation might be. Neither of the vampires uttered a word, either from being rendered speechless or because they could tell that Nichole wasn't quite done yet. Whatever the reasoning it didn't change the fact that Nichole wasn't appreciating how openly they were analyzing her.

It was flat out annoying.

"I know that I should be grateful for what you did. That I should just find peace in offering my gratitude, but I can't do that. It isn't because I would be lying or am uncomfortable with how I know I should be responding. It is because within the next seven years I will be gone. In my eyes what you did was meaningless." Nichole didn't let the good doctor cut in on what she had just said when his mouth opened. She just kept on talking. "Before, when we spoke you repeatedly reminded me that you had no interest in endangering me or putting your family in unnecessary risk. I do not care if you endanger me because of how unpredictable and uncontrollable my deaths are. That is why I really do not care if you decided to stay or to go."

The stare Nichole received from the Cullens as she wrapped up her little speech was all too familiar. Eyes narrowed and frowns grew. They weren't too sure what to say in return, not without feeling awkward or worrying about crossing some invisible line, but the questions were there. More rising as the seconds passed.

Kane gripped his cane till his knuckles turned white. Nichole was surprisingly open with how much she was sharing about her curse. It was clear to Kane that the snip and cold edge to her voice wasn't because she was struggling to explain her actions but because of her unwillingness to be here. How clear that would be to the Cullens was yet to be determined.

In all honesty, Kane thought he would have needed to pressure her into speaking to the Cullens. It worried him to a degree with how open she was being. He had only planned on coming to deal with the issue of her being a minor living so far away from any parental figures. He had not expected for the curse to be revealed. Nichole either had something bigger planned to get back at Kane for dragging her along or she was just attempting to make things go by faster.

The sooner the meeting could conclude itself the faster Nichole and Kane could leave, and once they left Kane and Atticus would depart Forks and return to their home. Things would then go back to how they were meant to be. Nichole living her life alone in solitude. A life where social connections were meaningless and unnecessary.

She could only hope that after this the Cullen family would keep their distance and leave her be. Maybe, if she got lucky they'd leave as well. Despite what she had told them there was a part of her that hoped they wouldn't stay. That he'd see her as too much of a risk and uproot his family and shuffle them to somewhere else.

"Seven years?" The porcelain skinned woman asked, drawing both mortals back to the present conversation.

"You'd only be-" The good doctor began but Nichole cut in and finished for him. "Twenty three, almost twenty four."

It was breathy, barely audible to Kane or Nichole, but Carlisle muttered the age under his breath. He could hardly believe his ears, and was finding it incredibly difficult to grasp what the two were telling him. There was no reason for him not to believe them, especially with no signs of either of them lying, but a curse that repeatedly had someone in a cycle of constant death? Was there truly something so horrible as that? Could it not be broken?

He glanced unceremoniously between the two. The silence that had fallen laid bare the questions both Carlisle and Esme had in that moment, and when it became clear Nichole had no more words to share with the group Kane took control of the conversation.

"I hope it won't be too much trouble to ask for a seat to sit in while we talk? These old bones aren't what they use to be." Eager to dissipate the awkwardness growing Esme jumped on the opportunity. A smile decorated her face and golden eyes twinkled as she tilted her head slightly to the side. "This way, please! I apologize for not showing you to the living room sooner!"

"No worries ma'am. Our conversation took a rather serious turn unexpectedly."

A hand found itself on Nichole's lower back as Kane gently pushed her into moving. He wasn't about to follow the Cullens into their living room and leave Nichole unsupervised. He knew her too well to just expect her to follow after. Kane knew how her mind worked and didn't doubt that she would just leave without being courteous and finishing the conversation she had started, or having the decency of saying goodbye.

"Please take a seat anywhere you wish. Would you like something to drink? I fear we don't have much but I can fetch a glass of water if you wish."

"We are quite fine, thank you for offering." Kane responded. "Now where were we?"

"Talking about how dead I get before I turn twenty four." Nichole prompted, crossing one leg over the other as she eyed the room. She'd have to give credit to whoever decorated the place because they did a very nice job. The room was handsome and well lit. The windows though. Nichole didn't like how open they left the house. How exposed it left her feeling.

"Yes," Kane inhaled deeply. This was not a powwow he was going to enjoy. "-death for her has always occurred before the mark of the twenty fourth year. As I said before not much is known about the curse. A lot of what is known comes from the records she has kept and left in the Saaven Covens care."

"Records?"

When Kane glanced to his side, towards Nichole, he found her no longer making eye contact with their hosts. Instead she was focusing on the windows. He wasn't sure she was paying attention to the conversation any longer.

"When she can, Nichole, keeps a very detailed journal of what occurs during her lives." Dark hair, tipped in blue, was tangled about slender fingers as she snapped back to attention and stationed her stare on Kane. He could feel her gaze piercing holes into the side of his head. When she didn't attempt to intervene Kane proceeded on. "We don't have all her journals, it's impossible, but those we do have help us to understand her curse better."

"What do you know of her curse?" The question came sudden, and when Nichole fixed her sight on Carlisle he added, "As long as you don't mind me asking."

"What's your plan?" Nichole did mind. She minded greatly. This was carrying on longer than she had wanted, and while she knew she had opened a can of worms when she announced she was cursed she no longer wished to speak on the topic. The time for questions was over, and the time for departure needed to be upon them.

"Our plan?"

Kane swallowed, and a bushy grey eyebrow twitched. This was going to be a very long day if this was as far as Nichole was willing to let things go.

"Yes, are you going to stay or go?" Nichole paused briefly before adding. "I didn't come to tell you any of this so you'd feel sorry for me. I came because," Brows creased as her sentence faded out. Her mind mulled over what had happened and what had led to this situation. "-because I was pressured and wouldn't have heard the end of it if I hadn't. Frankly, I don't see why I must be here. I have no interest in interacting with you, or your kind, and everyone knows by now I have no relations in Forks."

To her side Kane's penetrating gaze said everything running through his brain. It was a warning towards her attitude, but there was no or-what if she decided not to listen. Threatening her would be as useful as attempting to psychological control her. His only option would be to persuade her verbally, and hope for the best.

"Nichole," Kane began, but her own tongue was in play quickly. So, with a wave of the hand Nichole was cutting him off. "Rude, yes-yes, I know." Her pale gazed stationed solely on the good doctor and his beautiful wife. "Do you have any more questions, or can we go?"

A disproving puff stifled Kane from whacking Nichole with his cane. Striking her would not be like popping Atticus. He had to keep on reminding himself that she was not his child, and as such he had no right to discipline her when she acted selfishly. Another part had to keep reminding himself that Nichole was much, much, older than the sixteen year old body she was currently inhibiting. He worried about the stability of her mentality. Despite the curse Nichole was still human, and all humans were preeminent social creatures.

But, fear can destroy a person as quickly as lasting emotional pain. Kane didn't doubt that Nicole had scars that still bled.

"We have no intentions of keeping you any longer than you wish to stay, but we do have a few questions we'd like to still ask." Nichole wasn't pleased, if the twitch in her upper lip was any indicator, but she didn't move from her spot on their sofa. Her annoyance with Kane was growing into irritation, which was being reflected in how she was choosing to speak to the darling Cullen couple. "As for our plan, to stay or not, we haven't decided yet. One of our daughters can see many possible futures, and none seem to be negatively impacted if we stay in Forks."

"Precognition? As in a psychic ability?" This wasn't something Kane knew about. If vampires were gifted beyond their species select hunting qualities then the philosophy that his people knew was off. This could change the whole playing field when dealing with their more human hunting relatives. Was it something acquired after turning? Or, could this daughter have been a witch or gypsy?

"Most of our children are gifted, but what worries us with Alice's visions is not that she doesn't see anything bad but that Mrs. Dante doesn't appear in any of them." Frowning, Carlisle leaned forward a tad. "It's difficult to explain, but you didn't appear directly. When Alice focuses on you she gets a mixture of images and colors. Everything is shifting too much and not willing to settle. Our family relies greatly on Alice's visions, especially when matters such as this arise."

"We are most worried about you being a blood singer, and the way your blood affects the entire family." Esme's words had Kane's curiosity building. Though as curious as he was there was more to what he asked next. "A blood singer? I've never heard the term. Can you explain?"

"I know that I told Miss Dante about my family's eating habits but I don't know if she shared this with you Mr. Klahie." A nod from Kane had Carlisle not explaining what they drank and instead straight into the definition of a _La tua cantante._ "A blood singer is the blood of a human that is particularly appealing and highly irresistible to a single certain vampire. Each and every human has a different scent to them and their blood. It is different for all vampires but some humans are more appetizing than others. For our kind the more appealing the smell the more flavorful the blood is. Humans with such blood are very infrequent, and because of this their effect on the affected vampire makes it difficult to not lose themselves when indulging." Kane didn't so much as pause but pass his attention from Kane to Nichole. "When you first fell down that hill and got injured the smell of your blood called out to my whole family, not just one of us, but you already knew that didn't you. That had been a shock. I hadn't known a _La tua cantante_ could affect a large group of vampires, and as far as I know it has never happened before, but from what I have gathered this most likely has to do with your curse."

It was the truth. As far as Carlisle knew there had never been a single human account were their blood called out to so many different vampires at once. He feared what would befall her if the Volturi discovered her. That is to say if they hadn't already. _A La tua cantante_ that no matter how many times died would be reborn had to be worth something to the powerful coven. He could only hope that Nichole had never and would never cross paths with them.

"Jasper, my son who got to you first, is the newest to our way of life. He hasn't been feeding the same way as long as the rest of us have. He finds it difficult to resist the urges when blood is spilt. Normally, we can prevent an accident but this time Alice hadn't been able to see what was going to occur until it was already too late."

Waiting was a challenge for both Kane and Nichole. Sometimes they could be the most patient individuals in the room and other times neither could hold still. It could be an overfull bladder, hunger, thirst, the cold or heat, aching muscles, boredom, or a busy mind. Nichole still had the urge to remove herself and leave, and if Kane wished to stay and finish chatting then so be it. She'd wait in the car. Kane on the other hand knew what he wanted to say next, but couldn't figure out quite how to word the phrases.

Magic, or those blessed, didn't work on Nichole because of her curse. The mages of the Saaven Coven had tried everything from psychics to mind readers. They had sought out the wisdom of gypsies and those banished. Nothing worked, and everything was obstructed by the dark magic wrapped tightly about Nichole. So, it didn't surprise Kane to learn that even the gifts of vampires could accomplish little as well.

"I'm not sure how much you know of our species, but when we bite our prey we inject a venom to paralyze them. It is extremely painful, and-" It didn't go unnoticed by anyone, especially Carlisle, when his voice drifted as his eyes shifted to the bite mark hidden by a long sleeved shirt on Nichole's right arm. Nichole who had been sitting so silently felt the hairs on her neck stand on end as faint ghost pains passed through her. They were quick but none-the-less unpleasant. "Normally, while it is a way to paralyze it is also the way we propagate for our kind."

A dark hand ghosted over her scar, and for the first time Nichole looked a bit lost and confused. It was an odd expression on the cold teen. So much that both Cullens had their eyes on her in seconds. Nichole knew their venom was painful, from her own experience and the records she had read, but she hadn't known this was what turned people into vampires. It was something new to her and Kane. One of the many well guarded secrets that many hadn't been able to unveil yet. Kane knew of theories similar but none were solely based on the venom of a vampire.

Oh, what he'd give to get his hands on a sample.

"What Alice saw hadn't made sense but what she could smell and hear did, and when she figured out that you were what Jasper was after she took off after him. The two of them had been out of our hearing range when she called out for help, but not for our son Edward. He had been able to catch the bits of what Alice had seen and was currently thinking in her mind. Edward knew something was off and barely informed the rest of us before rushing out. By the time I had arrived Jasper had already bitten you. Alice and Edward had just managed to pry him off when Emmett, another of our sons, and myself arrived." It went unnoticed when Carlisle took a very human like pause. Rolling his shoulders and taking in a few breaths, as if everything he had just rambled off had made him breathless. "When he let go the smell of your blood was able to affect everyone. Normally, I would have associated this with you being a blood singer for Jasper but never has one affected more than a single vampire. After our talk though and what you two have told us I want to reiterate that this is due to your curse correct?"

Nichole's grasp on her scared arm hadn't relented and with the attention now focused solely on her once more she could feel her fingernails digging into the skin beneath her thin long sleeved blue shirt. Even if she wanted Nichole couldn't seem to get her mouth and tongue to work in unison. Either sensing this or helping to control possible verbal damage Kane swooped in and became her voice.

"What you are describing is accurate, partially. This _La tua cantante_ affects only one vampire, but what Nichole's blood does isn't just drive vampires over the edge but all supernatural beings. It's not just her blood either. Inhumans that thrive off of mortal flesh have similar reactions. As far as we can tell it is all due to the curse, and only gets worse the older she gets. Her pendent helps but I fear the older she gets the more powerful the curse becomes. It can adapt on its own and change to fit what is occurring around her."

"It's my soul." Nichole's free hand grappled for the stone Kane spoke of, but she found nothing.

"As far as we can understand the physical effects might just be after effects of the dark magic used when the caster casted their spell. Her soul is what was damaged. It is linked and chained in random repetition." Kane explained.

"Mages can see the soul?" It was Esme, and she looked surprisingly shocked. It had Kane cracking a small smile despite the severity of the conversation. "Not exactly. We can't see a soul, but our most powerful ancestral mediums have the ability to feel living souls."

"And, Miss Dante's soul is cursed by darker magic?"

"Yep, cursed to always repeat death after death. Always be in an endless cycle of misfortune and hurt." For some odd reason Nichole had found her voice, and as suddenly her defenses were raised. This was enough, they knew enough, the conversation needed to end now. Her mind was screaming and screeching but the tone of her voice was solid and calm. Like she was in the middle of some random conversation that she wouldn't remember in two weeks. The looks she was receiving had her seething, though. The sympathy and worry and concern.

Nichole could see Kane was close to jumping in and that the Cullen's still had about a dozen questions to ask. They all revolved around her curse, her issue. So, she diverted the conversation.

"You said that your venom is used only to procreate and to paralyze your prey. If that is the case then why am I not dead? This is not the first time a vampire has attacked me but this is the first that I can remember where I am still the same person breathing after." And, in doing so put a plug in the old conversation

There was no sound for a bit and it seemed no one knew how to break the tension that had settled. Kane wanted nothing more than to rub his temples but took to staring at Nichole in disbelief and unease instead. Esme looked uncertain. As for Carlisle, when he finally broke the silence it was slow and hesitant. He felt like if he said the wrong thing or spoke to loudly he'd set off a bomb.

"That's because normally if a person isn't fully drained they turn."

"When my husband returned with you in tow he had ordered the two of us remaining to leave. I traveled to Goat Rock Wilderness with my daughter and other children. After making sure everyone would be ok I returned to Carlisle's side. I was hesitant when I returned, not sure how your blood would affect me after the time that had passed, but Carlisle had already burned and cleaned the majority of it by then. Even though Carlisle had attempted to withdraw Jasper's venom we didn't know if you'd wake up human or would still turn."

"How does it work? From the way you talked about your venom it made it seem like there was just death or creation, but Nichole is still mortal." Kane would have thought it was because of the curse that she didn't change, but what if her curse hadn't been a key player in her staying human.

"As far as I know there has never been an instant where the venom hasn't turned a human." Linking his hands, Carlisle placed a majority of his weight on his elbows that now rested on top of his knees. Pale brows creased as he spoke. "It had been an untested idea. One that had been impossible to attempt without an infected human. When you got bitten Miss Dante you begged for me to get it out. I was hesitant because I didn't know if it would save your life or just prolong the transition, but the venom hadn't reached your heart yet so my theory seemed plausible. After you woke up, still with a beating heart and bleeding wounds, I had thought that I had found a way to stop the transitions in those who didn't wish to turn. Now I'm not sure it has anything to do with me removing the venom."

Neither Nichole or Kane could answer the question the good doctor was asking. It was impossible to know if the curse had a hand to play in it or if sucking the venom out was what kept Nichole human, not without testing it on someone normal. The likelihood of that happening wasn't high. Especially since the Cullens only dined and dashed on animals.

"The curse, as I mentioned, is complicated and little is understood of it. I don't know if it could have counteracted against the venom. It seems highly unlikely but anything is possible." Rubbing his hands together Kane glanced between their hosts, his mind digging for information. "How did you extract the venom?"

"I had to create a suction and with time so short I used my mouth to extract the contaminated blood. I spit the blood out when my mouth became filled and the venom became too much for me to handle." Not needing Kane to ask Carlisle continued on. He was becoming accustomed to the questioning from the older mage. "Our body's only fluids are the blood we consume and our venom. It laces our joints and is what hardens our bodies. It gathers in our mouth, like saliva, and to keep from poisoning you with my venom as well I had to keep from letting any of it slide."

"Her blood is highly intoxicating for the supernaturals. Can you explain how you managed to just spit it out?" It had both their interests, but Kane was the one to ask. It was impossible for either to know that until that fateful day Carlisle had never drank human blood. Even if it had been a small amount Carlisle had guilty enjoyed it, and the more monstrous part of his craved for its next fix.

"The venom of a vampire is not just lethal to humans but to other vampires as well. It is one of our most basic weapons, and when another vampire is exposed to it there is an extreme sensation of burning. If it is inflicted via a wound the wound often doesn't heal correctly or leaves a scar. Jasper's venom burnt the inside of my mouth. Even with how her blood affected me, by taste and smell, the burn of the venom was still too strong and helped to push back the desire to consume." Beneath Carlisle's words was a sense of regret. Nichole hadn't expected for the monster to feel regret for contemplating eating her. It did little to comfort her though. There was still the feeling of being in the company of predators stronger than you. It made the urge to get up and leave more intense.

The silence as no one spoke made the room feel heavy. Nichole had long since stopped making eye contact and was staring out one of the many wide open windows. As for Kane he was trapped in his own thoughts. Their meeting had been both educational and worthwhile, if not a little off track. At that moment there wasn't anything more he could think of. He'd need to time process what he had been given.

"Is there anything else you'd like to ask?" It was all he could think of to break the standing silence. "There isn't much more I can say about the curse but I can try to answer any other concerns you may have."

It took Carlisle no time to speak up. Of the many things they had covered there was one that still hadn't been discussed in length yet.

"The pendent. Miss Dante spoke of a pendant that she usually wore that helped with the smell of her blood. I'm not sure if it cracked during the fall or during the attack but it seemed to still have some effect when she held it. Would she be in possession of another of these or was it one of a kind?"

Once more Nichole's hands went in search of the obsidian stone. Her mind knew she'd find nothing because the night prior, soon after Kane and Atticus had arrived, she had given it to the older mage to examine.

"Nichole's pendent was one of a kind." Nichole watched, with creased brows, as Kane reached into the inner pocket of his coat. She unconsciously leaned in closer as a familiar cracked stone with a moth encircled in three interlocking rings was pulled out. Her pale gaze never leaving the enchanted pendant as Kane displayed it to the Cullens in the palm of his outstretched hand. It was an understatement that she was surprised that he had brought it along to their little meet and greet. Even more so when Kane pulled it back and tossed it at her. "It's supposed to help dilute the smell of her blood and flesh, but as you can tell despite it being cracked the magic embedded in the stone is still partly effective. Due to Nichole's particular circumstances her pendants are a bit tricky to make. Her curse is constantly changing and adapting, and because of this her pendants often have to be remade. Currently my son is continuing the casting on her new pendent. The casting will be finished in two days time but the magic will have to settle before it will be useful to Nichole."

"How long will it take to settle?"

"We sped up the process due to what is happening, but the settling of such a casting takes time. At the longest it could take nine or ten days. The best estimation I can make is that the pendent will be completed by August 29th, give or take a day or two."

The Cullens looked between Kane and Nichole. They were clearly unsure of something, and Kane had a hunch that something had to do with their decision to stay or go. It was understandable, though he wished Nichole showed the same kind of response. She was more interested in her broken pendant than the uncertainty of the Cullen family's decision in staying in Forks.

"After I drove you back to your home Esme and I traveled to where the rest of our family was to talk about what had happened. Normally, after an accident such as this we leave but," The sides of Carlisle's mouth tugged upwardly into a smile. He couldn't help himself from smiling, not with how unusual this ordeal had become, and struggled even more to pull it back down. "I apologize that was uncalled for but everything has been a bit bizarre, even for us."

"If it makes a difference, until you called I had been sitting behind a desk plucking skin beetles for hours. It's a welcome distraction." Kane told, and unlike Nichole who scowled in disgust a false smile playing at his own lips. A soft chuckle came from Carlisle as he shook his head and took Esme's hand in his own. It was a bit of a comfort that this had been just as strange for them as it had been for the Cullens.

"When I arrived things were in disarray, to say the least. Some of our children were still beating themselves for what had happened, and a few of the others were angry because it most likely would mean that we would have to be on the move soon once more." Carlisle's eyes focused on the pendant Nichole still clung to. "As I explained, Alice can see things that might come to pass and she has been doing so for a very long time. She explained that despite what Jasper did that it doesn't seem to negatively impact our stay here in Forks. No matter how she looked she couldn't see Miss Dante in general. It was always constantly moving figures and shapes. Which I understand now is due to your curse."

Nichole nor Kane could notice, or hear, the conversation Carlisle was having with Esme. Their voices were far too low and the words spoken too fast for their ear to pick up. To them it was nothing more than a momentary pause as Carlisle gathered his thoughts and rearranged his words.

"I can't say we will be staying or leaving, not till we know for sure if we will be posing as a danger towards Miss Dante. I can say that my family does want to stay in Forks. We don't like to constantly travel but it is necessary, since after a handful of years people start noticing how we don't age."

"It's up to you and your coven what you decide to do next." Kane glanced between the two, as if considering their options. "The pendant that is being created will help. It will dilute Nichole's scent and leave her smelling like any other mortal."

Esme squeezed Carlisle's hand, and under her breath murmured to her husband. It was another quick conversation between the two of them that neither Kane or Nichole could hear. The silence the mortals heard was littered with gazes of contemplation. Kane knew Nichole would not uproot herself and leave, not unless something or someone pushed her into doing so. If the Cullen Coven stayed it would endanger her lifespan, but anywhere Nichole went her life would be in danger. There were threats Kane could eliminate and diminish but he could never stop her curse from activating and killing her. As uncomfortable as Kane was with the thought of the Cullens staying in Forks there was little he could do but persuade the vampires to leave, and starting a war wasn't an option.

To his side Nichole was still staring at her cracked, and practically useless, pendent. Slender fingers running over the carved moth and three rings. She was done again with this conversation and the only further communication any of them would most likely get out of her would be when she walked out the door at the end.

"Before you two arrived this morning Esme and I had a talk that the others of our coven were not involved in. We weren't sure how this meeting would go or what we would learn. Undoubtedly we have learned more than we expected and a lot of the questions and concerns we had are settled now. I can't say we still don't have any more worries or inquiries, because we do but they are minor in comparison. When we left Goat Rock Wilderness a majority of our kids agreed to wanting to stay in Forks, as did a few who disagreed because of what had happened" Carlisle spared a quick glance to his doting wife, looking for any sudden changes in what they had just discussed. She simply smiled comfortingly and squeezed the hand she was holding. "I would like to keep my family in Forks."

It took him by surprise how quickly Nichole's attention was grabbed by Carlisle's last sentence. It made him wonder if he had been wrong, maybe she wasn't quite done with the conversation just yet.

"We will be careful and make sure to keep our distance from the cottage until the pendant is finished. Final judgement I suppose will have to come if the pendent works as well as you suggest it will." Carlisle made sure to make eye contact with Nichole while he had the chance, a small smile on his lips to help comfort any worries she might suddenly have at the declaration he had made. She didn't return the gesture and just blankly stared back.

"I would be lying if I said it gives me comfort to know you have decided to chance staying, but to keep Nichole safe she will be staying in the cottage till the pendent finishes. I can begin casting a few concealment spells on the place to help, but with my departure in the next couple of days I fear I won't be able to finish them to my level of content, but my son can. He is more than capable of such simple magic." Carlisle's proclamation had caught Nichole's attention but this had her head snapping to the side. Her eyes narrowed at whatever was going through the mage's mind. She had a feeling that what was about to spill she wasn't going to like. Kane wasn't sure he liked the idea he was going to propose either. It had its own risk. Yet, despite him not wanting Atticus chancing interacting with vampires it had to be better than risking what could possibly happen if his son returned to their coven. The safest option would be to leave Atticus here in Forks while Kane worked on figuring out what exactly was going on in their own coven. "Do you know who I can talk to for enrollment at Forks High?"

"You're going to transfer him during his senior year? Is that really smart?"

"Not just him but you as well. I'm going to enroll you both into high school."

And, there it was the thing Nichole knew she wasn't going to like.

"No, no, you're not. It will be a waste of time and money. I have no interest in going to high school and less interest in socializing with others. I did not ask you to travel this way or interfere with what happened. I was more than satisfied with things going back to how they had before the attack, and awaiting my death date." Nichole scowled, and her displeasure came through words crude and snappy.

"Nichole, I-" Kane was treating her like an insolent child. Someone that didn't know any better. Yet, he still insisted on pushing the buttons he had no authority messing with.

Clenching the broken necklace Nichole stood up. Eliciting spite at him had Nichole promptly hissing, "No you aren't. You feel obligated. You feel like your people still owe me for what I did all those fucking years ago." It was time for Nichole to leave, and she couldn't have been happier to do so. Kane was on his feet as soon as his cane was in hand. She was faster, younger, and her legs worked. His legs were slightly crippled from the misuse of magic. By the time Kane had rounded the corner he could see Nichole pulling the front door open.

"You can't hold up for eternity. You need people, social interactions, just like everyone else." Nichole didn't stop to listen. She left the door open and headed straight for the Klahie rental car. "It is not better the way you have been doing things. Nichole, you need to have connections and ties -" Kane all but stopped at the entrance of the house, the Cullens not far behind. Carlisle's hearing focused both on the conversation and the unsettling rhythm of the mage's heart. Without working himself up Carlisle wouldn't have noticed the now obvious murmur in the graying mages organ. "Nichole we need to talk ab-"

"I don't want to." The door to the car slammed shut, promptly ending their conversation and the meeting with the Cullens.

Kane stood still, his chest heaving and blood pressure spiking, before turning towards the Cullens.

"I apologize for having to witness that. If you have any further questions or concerns feel free to contact me. As for who I can discuss late enrollment with do you by chance know who that would be?"

* * *

**This is such a long chapter! So much dialog! I hope it wasn't a bore to read but I promise things should pick up soon! Thank you for commenting and favoriting it means a great deal to me!  
  
The Twilight Saga is Owned by Stephenie Meyer**   
**Other Characters and Plot Developments belong to Jemstone6259**   
**And lastly, a special thank-you to the readers!**


	9. Chapter 9

_Out of place._   
_Sometimes it’s believable._   
_Other times it’s just intended to be._

_\- inspired by_ _**D.R.** _ **-**

* * *

Atticus loved being barefoot, it mattered not where he was, and it was no different in Nichole's cozy little cottage. He could feel the natural energy of the wooden structure tickling at the soles of his feet. It was one of his many strange little quirks, and the coven members back home had grown accustom to him running about barefooted. Every witch and warlock had their own ways of feeling closer to the esse of this world.

For Atticus being barefoot let him feel calm and good. Despite the coolness in the wooden floorboards he could feel the warmth that had gathered throughout many years. There were traces of Nichole as she was now and invisible prints of a few of her past selves engraved into each grain of wood. Just as there was a certain hint of immorality from darker times. Atticus could sense it all through his feet as energy passed in and out. Even the thick angry tension that had been stewing repeatedly before exploding since yesterday was beginning to influence the natural flow of the cottage's esse.

It was what had provoked another of Atticus's oddities. One that usually earned him a few to many annoyed stares. Something hybrid between Leann Rimes song Can't Fight the Moonlight and Smash Mouth's song All Star had been vibrating up through his throat and past pressed lips for a good forty minute. The humming was light and airy, an utter opposite of the energy swelling and detonating between his father and Nichole.

"Do not take that tone with me young lady!"

"Or what? Are you going to tie me down and manipulate me through a curse as well? Or, have I finally pushed that final button and you're gonna dissect and murder me! It wouldn't be the first time a member of your coven has accidentally disposed of an annoying fly. Oh, I know! Maybe you'll finally disown that loyalty you feel towards me!" Nichole hissed, her teeth bared and hands tightly clenched. "I am neither young nor stupid, Kane. There is nothing you hold above me that will change my mind. You can take away the land I live on, the animals I care for, or my only form of magical protection. It doesn't matter because the ending result will always be the same." She didn't pause and the tone she had taken didn't falter. "I will die, and nothing can change that. No high school or social life can save me from my fate, not even your coven's magic!"

"You can't keep walking out, Nichole. Pushing people away and distancing yourself emotionally is not health!"

"My apologies, I didn't realize I needed your permission!"

A wiggle of Atticus's pointer finger and a tingle at the base of his neck had the front door popping open. Then, with the prying of his toes the door swung open and a foggy morning welcomed him with a cloak of heavy humidity.

"I'm only trying to help!"

"I can tell, and if you haven't figured out yet it's highly irritating and annoying! I have no interest in making friends with children! So, just stop."

His body spazzed and jerked gently as Atticus stepped outside. The combination of the climate change and dead tugging at the far outer edges of his mind had him twitching, and unintentionally slamming the door shut behind him. Even though it had been an accidental slip and momentary loss of control dull pain began to sprout from behind his temples.

Atticus stood outside the cottage till his vision lost its bright white dotting, and he could register the chilly humidity kissing at his exposed skin and dampening the hair beneath his beanie. Then, and only then, did he start to walk away from the small home and towards the woodlands beyond. The further he traveled the more pronounced the voices in his mind became. Mossy green eyes widened and his head tilted to the side as his attention was caught by a repeating cycle of a soul complaining about pollen and tweeting tweety birds.

 _'Such a shame.'_ He thought as eyes glanced down at the two cases at his sides. Atticus really liked birds, especially his.

After the exciting news that his stay in Forks, Washington, was going to be extended Atticus couldn't have been more thrilled with the fact he had gathered those of his flock before departing from South Dakota. He didn't like being without his eyes, and what sort of puppeteer would he be without his puppets?

 _Daft children! Parents of my generation didn't tolerate such behavior!_ A new voice grumbled within the walls of Atticus's brain, causing him to shiver. _It's all that Grover Cleveland's fault! Why can't anyone of those fools see that?!_

Toes curled into moldy leaves and wet soil, before Atticus redirected himself towards the south instead of the north. Nagging souls such as his only tended to meddle and Atticus needed to concentrate while he meditated and reanimated his little lovelies. Though, a trio of happily babbling voices a few miles away near a river Atticus could handle.

 _'Such happy energy.'_ Atticus didn't doubt that the three were unaware that they were dead. He just wondered about what was keeping them locked in the in-between. Was it because they refused to acknowledge that they were dead or were they still clinging to what they loved and had to give up too soon? If it was the latter Atticus would have to worry about possible poltergeist behavior. Spirits that refused to find peace and wanted revenge or justice tended to get clingy and aggressive. Atticus had a feeling though that with this trio he wouldn't have to worry about clingy souls.

The Goddesses didn't need to bless him with the ability to be an empath to be able to feel the thrum of life coming from the forest, and it was thrilling as it resonated up from the soles of his feet. Was the adventure the girls were trapped in this delightful?

_This way! This way!  
Ann no~ One of the ladies giggled. The joy evident in the high notes of her voice. If my mother found out she'd be horrified -  
And, devastated! Don't forget, devastated!  
Lucy!_

Atticus found himself smiling alongside them, or what he imagined was smiling faces behind teasing words. A familiar buzz in the back of his mind had a stone sinking to the bottom of his belly, and just like that Atticus was shaking his head and returning to the present world. The glaze in his eyes diminished and his ears were recaptured by the shouting. There was a good hundred meters between Atticus and the cottage, and while he couldn't hear exactly what was being exchanged he could still make out with clarity angry voices screeching. It had been violent, verbally bashing and degrading, before and Atticus didn't expect things to have changed since he had stepped out. This was just their way of transferring their anger, agitation, and fear onto each other. A cycle that wasn't breaking because both his father and darling Nichole were too thick headed to back down to admit when the other was in the wrong.

_Arthur promised._

His twisted butchery humming of the songs Can't Fight the Moonlight and All Star returned. The noise and close proximity of Nichole worked in unison to drown out the docile spirits. On his own Atticus wasn't capable of blocking or driving off the dead. His protection, his sanity, sat in the hands of the witches and warlocks that came before him. It took multiple living mages of the highest classes to create charms and spells that redirected the dead. It took individuals on a supreme level to get through rituals that banished the demanding, clingy, and dark souls.

Without his coven Atticus would have long since lost his battle and been possessed. As much as he wanted to wonder and explore the world it was terrifying to think being away from the coven could result in him dying. The more attuned an ancestral medium is with the dead the more likely they are to be possessed.

Atticus couldn't be more attuned with the other-side, besides being dead himself. If his father was being truthful in leaving him here to babysit Nichole, and making sure she got another high school experience, then he was going to have to be very careful. More than he ever had.

Gnawing on his bottom lip he set the briefcases down and set to work. His hands occupied themselves with unlocking the containers as his head nodded along to catchy bits and pieces of upbeat songs. Latches clicked and tops popped open smoothly, despite the container's rough exterior, revealing inside three stone still black birds - two crows and a single large raven.

Atticus had expected something big and dramatic to unfold during the visit, but he hadn't quite expected for his father to announce that he would be staying behind and attending a commoners school. Atticus wasn't sure if he was happy, upset, or still recovering from the shock. Sure he was finally getting an adventure, hopefully a mild one where everyone was still living in the end, but did it have to be here and with the involvement of vampires?

Couldn't the town be inhabited by something more fun and less scary? Like nymphs, faeries, or shapeshifters? Atticus knew a shapeshifter back home, and the shifter knew a cute nymph. The three of them would smoke the fun stuff on occasions. Could vampires even have fun that way? To make it all the better the only magic he bet Forks knew came in the style of parlor card tricks.

Why was his father doing this?

Crouching Atticus dismissed his birds and removed the cork on a small bottle of squid ink. A thin tipped brush, rounded and long, soaked up the dark liquid before applying it to his hands. It wasn't an intricate design but required the constant changing of brushes. A round and rigger for stroke work, a flat for blending, and a fan for adding texture.

The bulky rings decorating his long and bony fingers hindered the process of Atticus's casting, forcing him to create invisible transferable bridges that didn't disrupt the esse gathering in the palms of his hands. Then, with still ink damp hands Atticus picked up the first of his eyeless puppets. His fingers sought the stitching on the crows underbelly before reanimating the cooled corpse.

The crow enclosed in his hands ruffled its feather and flexed stiff muscles. Atticus's head cocked to the side as his eyes closed and he focused on the newly reformed connection. It was like flipping a switch from off onto on. One second his eyes were closed and he could see nothing but darkness and the next a world of monochrome colors appeared.

"Time to get my eyes back in the skies." And, even without his own sockets open Atticus stood and tossed the bird into the sky. Once he was satisfied that his little crow's preserved body was still in working conditions, Atticus put a simple order into his puppet's dried mind. Scout. He wanted to know the lay of the land. Where the Cullen house was, if there were other homes, where the rivers ran, and where the trees broke open and meadows sprung.

The process would need to be repeated for each of his birds, till all three were relinked and reanimated once more. Atticus's plan was to send his raven to Forks and set the two crows out into the vast forest.

As his hands wrapped around another of his stiff little friends the door of the cottage flew open, bouncing off the outer wall of Nichole's home. Glancing over his shoulder Atticus watched as his father came flying out in a whirl of frustration and anger. He couldn't hear what his father was muttering under his breath but the look on his face had Atticus frowning.

Why couldn't his father just let Nicole live as she wished? For her the whole school experience wasn't important, just as socializing wasn't a top priority. So, why try to force her? Why leave his only son here as a glorified babysitter over a woman who was in all terms more than capable of tending to herself?

What was his old man planning? His father didn't just go from not allowing Atticus in the presence of vampires to thrusting him into the same school they would be attending. Where was his worry from before? They were far from home, the ancestral well, and Atticus was still healing after the rituals he had conducted with their supreme. While he wasn't in any immediate danger Atticus was still vulnerable, more so with being so far from their ancestors. What if he had an episode? Or, if he crossed a Cullen and he or she had a rather malevolent soul attached to them?

Atticus just couldn't wrap his mind around what his father was thinking. There were far too many variables still, and it felt like his father was skipping happily over each of them.

_It's such a beautiful day! Let's not let such worries stress us!_

_'Indeed it is Lucy, indeed it is.'_ Mossy green eyes turned upward to the sky as the raven in his hands wiggled and squirmed. It was newer, fresher, than the crows. The esse it had contained in life Atticus could still feel traces off, even after he had turned it into one of his puppets. Had it really only been a month since he had finished disemboweling and removing its bodily fluids? It didn't feel real that just a week ago he had finished the spell work that would link his mind to the birds shriveled and dried brain.

Necromancy was Atticus's specialty. The manipulation of corpses was one of the reasons he had been classified as a Dagon. It was a dark art, just as being an ancestral medium was. The Goddesses had subjected him to not only being a highly gifted medium but a mage who clicked well with the manipulation of corpses.

Atticus couldn't be more grateful for his gifts, despite their challenges. He could only hope to thank the Goddesses by bringing honor to her name.

As his raven took to the sky Atticus waited for Lucy to respond. He knew she had heard him, because that was how it worked. If he reached out, even a tiny bit, then he would peeled back the veil and leave a hole for the dead to peer out from. It took him by no surprise when she didn't respond because her friends were there still chattering away.

He wondered brief if perhaps she was ignoring him. If she thought him to be simply a trick of the mind, but he was proven wrong when Lucy stuttered.

_What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost.  
Lucy?  
It-It's nothing. Lets head back.  
Nonsense! Onward we travel! To see the wonders that surround our dear little Forks!_

She had heard him. She was just ignoring him.

Smart little ghost.

* * *

Atticus followed the path of his birds till mid-noon. His physical body neutral and defenseless, for the most part, as he set to seeing from the eyeless sockets of his puppets. There wasn't much to witness in the woods surrounding the cottage. Atticus just took note of a few areas. Such as a clearing three miles out that followed a stream towards the coast and an old oak split down the center from being struck by lightning that was refusing to wither and die. Beyond that Atticus hadn't seen much of any sort of civilization other than Nichole's home and the Cullens den.

He had perched one of his crows on a branch near the house but hadn't seen any movement from within. When his crow had flown in circles around the home there had been no movement from within, none his eyes could pick up on at least. Which meant they weren't home or they were in a room he couldn't peer into.

Forks, much to his pleasure, had been just as entertaining as scouting the forest. If he was going to be stuck in this dull and unremarkable town for his senior year then he was going to make the most of it. Starting with dissecting what made Forks - well, Forks.

The longer the raven soared the more Atticus became convinced that the town was just as the dead portrayed it as. Unremarkably little, outrageously prone to never ending rain showers, and made-up of the common folk. Atticus silently prayed to the Goddesses for something interesting to spice his last year. Nothing as drastic as a life altering adventure, but more along the lines of a story he could tell when he returned home.

He had seen the school his father was enrolling him and Nichole into. It was the Home of the Spartans~! Or, so said the sign off of South Spartan Avenue. It was in a desperate need of a new paint job. The parking lot, which looked like someone had thrown a random piece of concrete down, was rather vacant and empty if one didn't include the scarce few vehicles most likely belonging to the staff. Nothing about his new school screamed out at Atticus and thus he moved on to exploring and watching the residence of the town. In total for the next two hours Atticus followed three cop cruisers, two trucks, a lawn mower, and a gang of kids chasing each other on bikes. Who, might he add, led him to a shed of delinquents having fun with mushrooms and a bong in a shed. Past them Atticus had witnessed a pregnant mother dragging her screaming toddler from a park, what appeared to be an elderly mother and daughter out for a walk, and a Pomeranian taking himself for a stroll. That ball of fluff eventually led him to a diner. Where it sat at the back door and Atticus guessed whined. He couldn't exactly hear what the dog was doing or what any of those he had followed about had said. His birds gave him a second pair of eyes not a second pair of ears. While his sight would change depending on what each bird saw his hearing consisted of what was going on around his own body.

Leaving the dog to its business the raven traveled around to the front of the dinner. Where he was greeted by the name of the place. It was a mundane creation called The Caver Café, and Atticus didn't doubt that it had been named after whoever had started the business. That wasn't important though. The name of the place was irrelevant to him. What took Atticus's attention was the commotion going on outside the quaint café.

Atticus couldn't decipher if they were late teens or college freshmen but the group was being obnoxious outside the main window. One of them seemed to be either doing an interpretive dance or a sad attempt of a serenade for a girl behind the glass. Her face was flustered at the attention and her mouth covered by a hand to hide what Atticus guessed had to only be her laughter.

Behind her table stood a cop waiting to pick up his meal, and laughing awkwardly with a man who was leaning in far too close. Atticus hadn't seen a look of gratitude and relief form on someone's face so fast as the cops when his food was brought out. Only for the officers shoulders to tense and his own pale face to flush as the waitress poke mercilessly at him. She was a sassy, short, and dark skinned lady. Who's hair Atticus loved on the spot. It had him mentally jotting down to visit the diner just so he could compliment her on it.

Then, the officer fled and on his heels followed the pedestrian. Atticus lost them as his raven moved from the business sign to a tree branch. The fowls landing was perfectly timed with the door of the diner opening and the two stepping out. As per usual Atticus wished he could hear what was being said, but that wasn't how the link between him and his puppets worked.

Atticus had attempted to learn to lip read but that adventure had failed, and resulted in him getting in trouble on multiple occasions. Misunderstanding can be a major bitch in magic. Spells backfiring could be dangerous and after nearly going blind and fracturing his spine Atticus had given up on mastering the ridiculous skill.

The ruffle of feathers had Atticus own body tingling and his spin popping. As soon as the door closed and the two passed his tree a shiver ran down Atticus's back, causing the hairs on his body to stand. There was a wave of unease that washed over him, and for a split second he felt like he was back in Brookings. When the elders of his coven caught sight of one of his infamous birds being somewhere they shouldn't. Then, just like that it ended. The stranger's gaze skimmed over the lifeless puppet and returning to the officer.

Consumed in his own thoughts, and the incessant nagging of a voice at the edge of his mind, Atticus moved his raven away from the cozy diner. His interest no longer with the place or its people. The black bird flew till it was on the outskirts of the town, and once Atticus had settled it high in the dense layers of a pine tree he withdrew himself.

A blink later and the outskirts of Forks was gone and replaced by a world of color. The trees were once more towering high above and Atticus became more aware of the damp earth soaking into his pants. Mud and that of which gathered on the ground had dried between his toes, leaving the small appendages numbly uncomfortable. Yet, the familiarity of the plants pulsing energy comforted and wooed Atticus's sudden nausea.

His body was overstimulated. The rituals, the castings, and now a meditation to see through the eyes of his reanimated puppets had pushed Atticus's body. It hadn't pushed him close to his limits, or placed him in an area of danger, but Atticus would need to slow down. There was no use in crippling himself over the sake of boredom or curiosity. For now Atticus would go inside, make something yummy - like breakfast, because that sounded fantastic - and then take a nap.

Atticus crossed the threshold, his low humming catching Nichole's attention as he entered. The voices, soft and at the edge of his mind, became drowned out at the close proximity he was to Nichole. Her dark head, tipped in various shades of blue, peeked over the back of her sofa. Stormy eyes connected with mossy green briefly before her attention returned to a chunky demonic cat at her side. Atticus couldn't see the tabby but he could hear the animal's obnoxiously loud purring. He itched to pick at the cat, pester it, but his hands stayed steady.

He hated the daft creature but Nichole cared for it.

The urge slipped away as Atticus focused on the pulsating warmth resonating from her home through his dirty soles. It was calming and good for his own soul. As was the drastically diminishing tension that had formed like a smog between his father and Nicky.

 _'I should wash my feet.'_ Atticus thought, his gaze on the muddy footprints he was leaving in his wake. At least the cottages flooring was made of wood. It made cleaning it easier.

* * *

For twenty-five minutes Atticus had paced back and forth in the kitchen, checking on the muffins in the oven like an obsessive crackhead. His belly had been growling, and the sweet aroma of the cranberry muffins were a cursed blessing. They were out now and cooling on the rack, their perfect domes cracked and crumbly.

His hands, clammy from the heat of the baked goods, were piled high. Three for him and two for Nichole. She hadn't asked for them, nor had she starred his way with want in her stormy eyes. Her lids were closed, and had been for a while. As he padded closer Atticus noted once more the tiredness pooling and the evidence of exhaustion in the bags beneath her closed eyes. He would have thought her to be asleep. What with her head lolled to the side, the muscles in her face relaxed, and the tension that had sat on her shoulders gone. It was obvious she wasn't though. Even with her breathing slow and in a rhythmic pattern her left hand was constantly moving as she petted a purring Earl.

The creature cracked open its eyes and while it didn't stiffen at the sight of Atticus it did hiss. To which Atticus silently snarled back as he sat to Nichole's right. The two muffins he had brought were tossed at her lap. Where they tumbled but didn't fall to the ground with the help of the necromancers magic.

"You've got giant donk-donks out there." Atticus states. His eyes never leaving the golden cranberry goodies as he used a hand to tear off a piece, allowing a column of steam to rise and brush against his face. Then, down the hatch the morsel went.

Nichole didn't respond, not verbally, but she did accept the gift of food. Which was her food since Atticus had found the muffin mixture in one of her cupboards. Initially he had craved pancakes, with blueberries and chocolate, but there was none of that anywhere he looked. No pancake mixture or blueberries, but Atticus had found a stash of semi-sweet chocolate.

"I wanted to say hi to them but it occurred to me I didn't know their names-" Atticus mumbled through a mouthful of muffin. "-and as you know its awfully rude to not know such majestic ass-hats names." It might have been a pointless one sided conversation but it was better than sitting and eating in silence. One would think his desire to be near her would be based on how she could drive the dead from his mind, and it was. When Atticus was younger and they first had met he had only ever known the sound of the voices in his head. There had never been a moment without them, and because of this he had grown accustomed to them being there. Then, they faded when he was close to her. Only vanishing completely and leaving Atticus with his inner monologue when they touched.

He both hated and loved it. Atticus craved the silence, like a drug, and when he finally got it relief would wash over him. Sweet, sweet, sweet pleasure of relief but it wasn't what he was used to.

Change could be scary but silence was terrifying.  
It was reason enough for why Atticus opted for talking.

"So, instead I came inside and washed my feet. Don't worry though I cleaned up any mess I tracked in. I'm a clean ooman after all. Then, I wasn't sure if you had eaten anything yet and what with being hungry myself I wanted to make some breakfast. Pancakes with blueberries was what I really wanted but I just couldn't find any pancake mix so I was forced to settle for this muffin mix. Which, might I say isn't as bad as I thought it would be. Never had cranberry muffins before. They are sweet and tart."

For another two hours Atticus talked, and time passed in silence on Nichole's end as he continued his one sided conversation before his father returned with news of their enrollment, classes beginning on August 28th, and a car packed full of goodies and school supplies. Nichole didn't move from her spot on the couch when Atticus rose to help, nor did she show any sort of acknowledgement of Kane's return. Leaving Atticus with the responsibility of unloading and putting away what his father had bought.

As Atticus worked Kane explained, to the both of them, that he would be leaving come August 21st. That his duties as the Regent of The Order of the Dagon couldn't be put off much longer. Today was the nineteenth. Which meant his father would be departing in less than two days. Leaving him in a town unprotected and defenseless.

Atticus knew this was coming, but it didn't stop the dread and fear from swelling in the pit of his belly. Had he always been this pathetic? This needy? Could he really not survive on his own away from the coven? Was this going to backfire in a way neither Atticus or his father could see?

Gnawing on his bottom lip Atticus took a deep breath in to steady his nerves. He shouldn't be letting his worry get the better of him. It would do no good. Yet, other questions surfaced. Ones that had Atticus blood pressure shooting for the sky.

How had his father persuaded the coven into allowing their one and only level one ancestral medium into staying in a backwaters town like Forks? What had he promised or given up? Did this have to do with the fading loyalty the coven had for Nichole? Was his father trying to punish the Supreme?

Silently hyperventilating as his thoughts derailed, Atticus bit his tongue when questions of his father's decisions floated up and tickled his lips. As badly as he wanted to question his father Atticus knew better. It wasn't his place to be questioning the decisions made by a Regent of the Coven.

"I am going to begin placing charms for protection and concealment. Atticus when you finish you are to join me outside. The ones I cannot finish before my departure you will." As soon as Kane finished he promptly dismissed himself to begin warding the cottage. The man didn't wait for a response from his only son or an acknowledgement from the teen who was choosing to ignore him.

* * *

For four days Atticus had welcomed all that was mother nature with wide arms. He had practically become one with the bugs, rain, and humidity as he did his best not to get distracted by the souls of the dead. This had been the more preferred option compared to being stuffed inside with the mess that was his father and Nichole before the man's departure.

Atticus and Kane were supposed to take turns during the placement of charms and casting of spells but instead Atticus had basically taken completely over. He had done it all to avoid the terror going on inside. Atticus had been so absorbed in his duties that he hadn't even noticed that his father had left, and when he tried to recall back that early morning Atticus couldn't remember if his old man had even said goodbye. The whole situation left a sour taste in Atticus mouth. One could only hope that the nauseating tartness would be gone by the time Atticus eventually ventured back inside.

By the beginning of the fifth day Atticus had begun to wrap up the last of the charms he had been charged with completing. It wouldn't be until past midday during a rather nasty rain storm would he finally drag his tired self inside, and away from the bickering souls.

One major task was complete. Now Atticus would have to figure out how he would be handling his second. He wondered briefly if the invention of cell phones was truly a blessing and not actually a curse, because without them he wouldn't have concrete evidence of the impossible mission that even his father hadn't been able to complete before hurrying back to the coven. Not that he needed the text to know what he was expected to do next.

Even with his father gone Atticus could hear him going at it with Nichole, and losing.

_"You are going to high school, and that is final!"_   
_"It is not your decision what I decide to do with this life!"_   
_"It is if I say it is!"_

The constant arguing and thrashing of words had been what led him to taking many of his fathers shifts outside. At least out here he could let his mind wonder a bit and get sucked into the individual world of different spirits. Preferably those who were still unaware they were dead. Like the lovely trio of ladies. Atticus liked their adventure, even if it was on a repeating loop. His four days of eavesdropping on the gaggling gang of dead women had allowed Atticus to learn a lot.

The trio were wild and feisty, there was no mistaking that. Miss Lucy who had been proposed to by Arthur had no interest in men, and as Atticus expected her family knew nothing of this. Miss Ann, a newly wed, was finally pregnant and going to break the exciting news to her husband later that evening. Miss Rebecca, while three years younger than her two friends, was the daughter of the mayor and hadn't stopped telling the two girls with her about a man she was secretly seeing. Evidently if her father discovered who the man was he would be greatly disappointed in her. Something about Rebecca's father viewing the man's people as religiously barbaric savages.

Atticus had tried to follow their journey from start to end. His morbid curiosity of how their lives had been cut short was getting the best of him, and while he heard bits and pieces it never was enough to fully explain how they died. A part of him wanted to wander out into the forest and seek out the souls to help put them to rest, but Atticus knew the risk of trying to break the loop the souls were stuck in. It was clear they were unaware that they were dead and if pulling them from the loop backfired they could do serious damage to him.

He was lucky that he hadn't been hurt when he had talked to Lucy before. She could have suddenly realized she was dead and attempted to cling to him for answers. Which could have easily escalated into her turning into a nasty poltergeist.

So, as always Atticus would have to look the opposite direction and let their cycle continue to spin. Alone there was nothing he could do, no matter how powerful of an ancestral medium he was.

Instead Atticus focused on cleaning himself up, and the impossible task of getting Nichole to attend high school. How was his father expecting him to accomplish what he couldn't? It wasn't like Atticus and Nichole had a special bond.

Atticus wasn't even sure if Nichole saw him as anything more than a mage from a coven that was slowly forgetting their promise to her. They may look the same age but he knew Nichole was older. If she didn't want to go to high school then who was he to force her? Sure he knew spells that could help influence her but there was a high chance the magic would rebound and hurt him because of the curse.

In nothing but a towel Atticus collapsed onto his newly designated bed. The guest room was officially now his new living quarters. Rolling over his eyes roamed the ceiling and followed the curve of wooden lines.

There were still three days before the first day of school, and Nichole's pendant would be needing a bit longer for the magic to settle. Atticus still had some time to figure something out. For now he'd nap and as his eyes slid closed he expected to be greeted by sleep, not an upside down world of black and white.

His worries of fulfilling his father's wishes and not angering Nichole were harshly pushed to the side as he focused in on everything in his puppets field of vision. His birds did not link themselves to him, necromancy didn't work that way, but Atticus had installed a sort of insurance in his birds in case commoners or wildlife disturbed them.

It wasn't uncommon for them to be picked off by other birds or cats, but rarely did humans mess with the puppets. It quickly became clear as the crow was flipped over faster than his human eyes could handle just why his puppet was calling out to its master. Not only was it being crushed but the thing messing with it wasn't human.

Atticus didn't need the birds three-hundred degree field of vision to understand why he couldn't get the bird to move. The creature holding his puppet had broken its spine, and likely splitting the stitching on its belly where his craft was sealed inside. Atticus could simply switch the bird off, leave it as a rotting corpse, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. The blood in Atticus's body froze as he stared dead into the eyes of the humanoid creatures through the eyeless sockets of his puppet.

Atticus was scared.

He felt like he was the one sitting there in the man's grasp being crushed, not his crow, and it terrified him. How was he supposed to attend high school with five of them? Why had his father thought it was a glorious idea to leave his only son and only heir near these beasts? One of their kind had already attacked Nichole, and she miraculously had come out of the incident alive.

Then, the voices came. They were overwhelming and left Atticus temporarily paralyzed.

_Killer.  
I didn't deserve this!  
The alley…. I was in the alley….  
She's a monster!  
I'm sorry!  
God forgive me for all the wicked I've done!_

All his walls fell as the dead came banging and screaming. Atticus's mind was consumed with the dead and their pained and needy words. Especially as the souls realized that he could hear them and was listening.

_We were camping and he killed us!  
You can hear me?!  
Another abomination!  
Help!  
Kill them!  
My body… they burned it…  
I didn't deserve this! I want revenge! REVENGE!_

"STOP!" Atticus roared, harshly breaking his link to his crow. His vision swam and his mind pulsed and throbbed from the sudden bond being cut. It hadn't been done correctly and the results had Atticus groaning and moaning on his bed. Mossy green eyes clamped shut as blood vessels in his eyes broke and he wept red.

Atticus didn't keep track of time as it passed. He simply laid flat on his bed breathing in and out. His back itched, where the tree and birds were printed in ink. Then, his watering eyes shot open and the hair on the nape of his neck bristled as Atticus was torn from the cottage guest room to a world made of black and white once more.

_Let me in!  
Papa!  
I want revenge!  
Killer!  
Their kind is a disease that is going to kill all of humanity!_

How had they found his second crow? It wasn't anywhere near the Cullen home?

_I was betrayed!_   
_He killed me in an alley!_   
_Ask her why?! Why me!_

"Atticus?!"

Everything was spinning and the taste of iron was the last tie keeping Atticus stable, but even that was beginning to slip. They knew his name! How did the dead know his name?! He hadn't introduced himself to them… or had he? Was he messing up again? Was he the one who reached out to them? Or, had they overwhelmed him and forced their way in?

_I won't forgive any of their kind!_   
_As a hunter I can kill them! I know how!_   
_Momma! Momma! Momma!_

"Atticus! Snap out of it!"

Then, just like that the voices were silenced and the bond to his second crow broke. The ringing in his ears faded and Atticus became aware of his racketing sobs - and the pain. His body burned. What sort of damage had he done to himself by forcefully breaking the connection between himself and the crows? Would he go blind? Would he lose part of his hearing? Had he broken a few of his bones? Torn some muscles? Caused cancerous tumors to form in his lungs? Would the torn black birds on his back scar?

Atticus didn't care. Whatever the consequences were he'd take them head on later but for now he didn't care. He was just happy that the voices were no longer plaguing him.

* * *

**Atticus is a character I absolutely adore and can't wait to write more on! Just like Nichole I have a lot planned for him! What do you guys think of him so far? Is he interesting? A bit dense? Too powerful?**

**Stay tuned for the next chapter! We are getting close to our favorite dirty blonde cowboy vampire making his appearance!**

  
**The Twilight Saga is Owned by Stephenie Meyer**   
**Other Characters and Plot Developments belong to Jemstone6259**   
**And lastly, a special thank-you to the readers!**


	10. Chapter 10

_Be **confused** , it’s where you begin to learn new things.  
Be **broken** , it’s where you begin to heal.  
Be **frustrated** , it’s where you begin to make more authentic decisions.  
Be **sad** , because if we are brave enough we can hear our heart’s wisdom through it. _

_-_ by **S.C Lourie** \- 

* * *

Atticus groaned as Nichole pressed the disinfectant swab to a particular nasty split on his back. Since the episode the mage had gone silent. It was offsetting for him to be so quiet. Nichole didn’t like it one bit. 

Wasn’t her curse supposed to help with driving off the dead? He honestly hadn’t been that far away from her -- bloody hell, the boy had just been on the other side of her small cottage. Grinding her teeth, pale hues shifted over the stiff, slim, and trembling muscles of his back. He hadn’t stopped shaking.

 _‘Damn you, Kane.’_ She hissed as she glared at the bloody cracks running through birds printed into his skin through ink. Nichole didn’t know what it meant but she knew it couldn’t be good. Without questioning the boy, something she wasn’t going to do, Nichole could only gamble that something had happened to his little puppets. What she didn’t understand though was how that would have caused him to have an attack. Was he really this over stimulated from whatever he had done for their Supreme? Hannah wanted to ask, but her tongue stayed tied at the sound of rattling and wet breaths. She knew from the tears prickling in his green orbs and the trembling shake to his body that it wouldn’t take much for him to break down and start crying, again.

He was in pain and her curiosity wasn’t necessary. So, Nichole shut down her worrying mind and focused on taping the bandage to his back before moving onto the next bleeding tattoo. Using the towel she dabbed away the blood staining his back. Two of the little birds had torn and bled down his spine, and as Nichole's eyes darted about the intricate design of the tree and the black birds she noticed how all were facing up. Either perched on a branch or flying upward, following his spine like a river.

Nichole pulled his sweat soaked hair into a bun as she followed stretching branches and little birds split at his neck and disappeared past his shoulders. She followed the trail as they led up to his hairline, ears, and the tip of his bottom jaw.

It had changed in the three years since Atticus had last shown it off to her. The tree looked to have grown with him, twisting and curving to its own pleasure. The crows and ravens had multiplied. She noted that while most didn’t appear to have a scar there were a handful that looked like someone had taken a switch blade and slashed and stabbed at the inked art. Like someone had tried to remove the images but Atticus had struggled the whole time.

Nichole didn’t hate magic or mages but she certainly didn’t understand how it could be so appealing. None of it interested her and throughout many of her lives it seemed Nichole carried this train of thinking with her. She couldn’t understand where the line was drawn for them. Was losing an eye, your hearing, an appendage, or a vital organ really alright if you could cast a spell or incantation? Nichole knew that a lot of the exchange of life energy saved mages during their casting but was it all truly worth the while if you still died in the end? Was transforming oneself into a beauty, lengthening a life, speaking to the dead, playing with nature, or mastering one of the four elements really that special? Was it really that important?

Blowing air out her nose Nichole set down the towel and began disinfecting the tears in his skin. 

“It doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches.” Atticus’s skin prickled either at Nichole’s words or at the cotton swab she pressed against one of the torn birds.

“That’s good. I hate needles.” He tried to joke but his hoarse voice ruined any chances of it being funny.

Then, she crawled onto the bed with him to see his face. Blood was smeared from where it had leaked from his eyes and Nichole wondered just how much it had hurt. They had to sting she reckoned by the way he was still having difficulty prying his eyes open. 

“This may irritate a bit.” She warned before bringing the warmly damp cloth to his face. Nichole didn’t wipe but gently pressed and dotted to clear his sun kissed face of the blood. She didn’t want to hurt him, and wished to only help. There wasn’t much she could do for his eyes. His broken blood vessels would have to heal on their own. Groaning against her touch Atticus leaned away as Nichole moved away from his cheeks to his swollen and tender eyes. She paused, watching as lashes dripped anew with red droplets, until he nodded for her to continue. 

“I still have pills for pain from the Good Doctor. Would you like one? They will make you feel groggy but they take away the pain pretty well.”

“I’m fine.” Cheekbones high and prominent caught her attention as Atticus lied through a quivering bottom lip. He wasn’t fine and his every move portrayed that. Atticus was silently fighting back his building panic, and Nichole was clueless to what had scared him so badly.

 _‘Damn you, Kane.’_ Nichole’s mouth twitched as she dabbed at Atticus’s weeping eyes. She didn’t understand why he’d do this. Why leave Atticus here when there was little protection for his mentality. 

_‘Did you know that something like this would happen?’_ Her hand paused at the thought and suddenly it felt like there was a stone sinking in her belly. Was this why Kane had left Atticus in Forks? Did the mage know that his son would have an attack? That it would pull at the strings in Nichole’s bloody bleeding heart? Grinding her teeth she fought back a snarl. Nichole regretted ever letting herself spend those hours around the boy three years ago. Why hadn’t she been colder and pushed harder to drive him away? Making connections, building bonds, wasn’t what she wanted. Caring for people only ended in hurt.

Ringing the cloth out in her bowl, Nichole half wanted to shove it into Atticus hands and tell him to treat himself. She was about to do just that but her heart clenched at a shuttered breath. The hate and angry swelling melted. Nichole couldn’t take her anger out on Atticus. The boy wasn’t the one to blame here.

“I’ll be right back.” Her words came out soft and light, despite the twister of emotions within. She watched as his face contorted and his shoulders tensed. If it weren’t for the cloth Nichole was having Atticus pressed against bloody eyes then she knew she’d have seen the fear spike in his mossy gaze.

“I’ll be back.” She reassured him. “I’m just gonna step out to get a glass of water and a pill for you.”

The bed moved beneath as Nichole scooted but before she got far a hand smacked her on the side. It hit twice before latching onto her shirt. 

“I-I’m fine.” His words were choppy and watery. “Just going to-to w-walk it off.”

He shot up, on unsteady feet, and wasted no time in face planning into the wall. With pursed lips Nichole raised an eyebrow as he sunk to the ground with a pained groan. She did nothing to avert her eyes from his nude form. The towel she had thrown over his lap laid inches on the floor from the bed. 

“As attractive as your non-existence ass is I must ask where you were going to walk around naked.” Slipping off the bed, and ignoring the moans of an idiot, Nichole yanked the comforter free. Then, proceeded to cover Atticus with it as she spoke on. “Because, I know you weren’t about to wander around my home with your bedazzler dangling about.”

The urge to smile, despite the circumstances, had her lips curving upwards slightly. Atticus had shot off the bed, ran into a wall, but had managed to keep the cloth pressed to his eyes. The mage wasn’t as entertained at what had happened -- if his groans of pain and his curled up form were anything to go by. In a way that made Nichole wonder if he had heard her thoughts or was just embarrassed by what he had just done.

“Stop-Stop-Stop lau-lau-ghing!” Atticus hissed. What Nichole supposed was a glare had been fogged over by pain and broken vessels. “Th-at hurt!”

Looking away she finally succumbed to the urge to smile. It was not the right thing to do but what Atticus had done she had found morbidly funny. 

“I’ll be back.” She uttered just loud enough Atticus would hear before scurrying out of his room. “With your water, pill, and my robe.”

Thirty minutes later and Nichole was watching from a window as Atticus paced outside, in her rosy red robe with the cheesy white hearts. She wasn’t sure if she needed to worry about him or let the boy work this out himself. Either way she found that dragging herself from the window wasn’t a choice she was going to be making any time soon.

* * *

 _‘Bloody biscuits and raspberry sauce!’_ Atticus mentally screamed and cried and begged as he ran everything through his aching brain once again. This was how he was going to die… and there was no way around it that he could see. _‘This is the end! I’m gonna die! Death! Gone! Wiped off our own bloody planet!’_

Wrapping his own two hands around his throat Atticus focused on his sudden loss in the ability to breath. It was like someone had stolen the air from his lungs… or maybe they had just taken his lungs. Either way he couldn’t breath and it was getting to his head in the worst sort of ways.

_‘I can’t breath.’  
‘I can’t breath.’  
‘I can’t breath.’_

Ridiculously illogical repetition. 

_It’s such a beautiful day! Let’s not let such worries stress us!_

Unconsciously he didn’t notice that the lost little soul’s intrusion had allowed him to figure out that he was indeed breathing freely, and just finely on his own. Atticus wanted to throttle Lucy to shut her pie hole, but instead he spun around on his heels and stared up at the raven perched on the cottage. With a blink he was no longer seeing from his own warm and throbbing orbs but instead eyeless sockets of his last standing puppet. Atticus hadn’t seen them again but he knew they were nearby - watching with their beady eyes. His body shivered at the intensity and intimidation he had felt when he had looked into those light hues.

_This is why I never had children! The little things don’t know how to properly act!_

Another blink and Atticus was back in his body. A world of color welcoming him with floating dots and a hazy hue of red. 

_I have family, people that care, and they don’t know! They don’t know what waits for them in the dark!_

_Where did you go?! You could have helped! Please, please, don’t abandon us!_

_Coward… Coward… Worthless coward._

Cocking his head to the side Atticus frowned and harshly squished his eyes shut. He wanted to rub them but knew it would not help. Instead he wiped red tears from his cheeks.

 _‘I hate you. I hate them. I hate all of this.’_ Laughter bubbled up inside and tumbled from his lips as Atticus did his best to ignore the voices in his head. He didn’t want to believe what he had seen. He wanted to pretend he didn’t care, but knew better than that. Atticus was a coward and hated being scared. When he had said he wanted an adventure he didn’t mean one so scary and bloody. He simply meant something fun and upbeat… not whatever this was slowly turning into. He should have just stayed inside with Nichole, or better yet told her what he had seen and what was outside.

 _‘I want to go home.’_ Nervously gnawing on his bottom lip Atticus focused on where the creatures were. The esse of the earth felt all wrong. It wasn’t nearly as calming and tranquil as it had been the last time he had stepped outside barefoot.

_Ann, your foot!  
You stay with her Rebecca. I’ll go get help!_

His attention was snatched up by the golden trio of ladies. The sudden switch had pain blossoming from behind his ears, but Atticus ignored it as he was dragged into their small repeating loop.

_What’s taking Lucy?  
I don’t know._

_Ann, you need to stay awake alright._

_Ann?_

_‘No… no..’_ Eyes that hurt popped open and fingers curled around his neck unlatched as Atticus’s feet thumped rapidly across the soft ground.

 _’Not helping! Not helping! Not helping!’_ He mentally chanted to himself till he felt like he had regained control of his own focus. Unconsciously he shuffled towards the cottage. She was inside and only she could mute the chaos bouncing around in his head.

Atticus was fearful of the vampires and the dead that were clinging to them. For now, with his back pressed to the cottage, his mind was protected but for how long? Atticus had come outside to face the creatures, but how could he do that? What was he supposed to do, or say? He was already over stimulated and it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge and into another episode. All he’d have to do is say one word, one tiny minor acknowledgment, and it would be game over.

Before he had just been surprised and his mind overrun by the lost souls. He hadn’t even reached out… or, at least Atticus didn’t think he had. Letting his head hang Atticus dug his toes into the cool mossy ground. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he focused on the unnatural spiritual energy.

 _‘Stop being a wuss and just pull on your big boy panties.’_ He mentally commanded but his body rejected the order. What was he even supposed to say if those lurking decided to come out to chat? Hi, how ya doing? Nice cold and clammy weather we’re having?

Breathing in deep Atticus closed his eyes. This - panicking - wasn’t going to get him anywhere. So, he focused on his breathing. He pretended the senseless murmuring and mutter in his head wasn’t there. 

He could do this. Atticus could confront them. He’d just have to stay calm and collect. Shoving off the cottage, on slightly unsteady legs, Atticus clenched his fists and took off for the forest. In the direction he knew the vampires to be in.

 _‘Just don’t acknowledge them. Stay calm and focus on your breathing. Count backward from twenty if you have to.’_ Atticus repeated to himself over and over.

Then, it felt like something in him flipped -- like a bottle rocket was taking off from a cliff. His head shot down as he nudged what he had nearly stepped on. Crouching down Atticus ran his fingers over black feathers and broken stitching. In his few years he had seen a few of his birdies get torn at by the other creatures of the earth, by shotguns and magic, and when he dissected and stuffed them, but the mutilated corpse he was gently scooping up angered him.

What right did they have to do this?

The trees around him groaned as Atticus stood. His mouth that had tasted bitter was now tangy. It didn’t even occur to the mage that he was losing control slowly and the tangy taste was his own blood pooling in his mouth.

_I can’t wake her up! Please, help!_

_Pestering children._

_They aren’t human._

_Everything will be ok. Just you wait and watch._

_I hurt… make it stop… please…_

“Finders _keepers_ , losers _weepers_.” His head felt fuzzy and his voice had taken on an oddly upbeat tune like tone. Stepping forward, Atticus held the bird up for all to see. “There, see it’s mine and what you did wasn’t very kind. Now with that settled why not stop this game of hiding and come on out of the shadows.”

Atticus’s face hurt, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was smiling so big. The smile fell a bit as the esse flowing into his bare soles shifted instantly. Cocking his head to the side Atticus focused on the energy before twisting and changing directions.

“They are so nosy!” He grumbled under his breath at the muttering and murmuring in his head. Why weren’t they being quiet? Couldn’t they see he was trying to be brave and courageous? To help Nichole in her time of need? He was just trying to find some sort of revenge for his fallen puppets.

“QUIET!” Atticus bellowed the order but the voices didn’t listen. They just kept on crying, shouting, pleading, and reaching out. 

Then, the flow of esse changed again and Atticus stumbled as he turned to follow it.

“You-you-you-” He repeatedly fumbled as his body twitched. “I can fee-el you. Stop hid-ding.” He couldn't figure out why he sounded so slurred. Atticus hadn’t been drinking. Shaking his head he stumbled into a tree before pointing in the direction he knew the two immortals to be in.

Then, they were before him. One was scrawny and the other big and bulky. Atticus leaned away from the tree and smiled widely, showing off his canine teeth. The pain in his head was nearly as blinding as the red haze disrupting his vision.

“Hiya.”

* * *

Fingers rapidly tapped against the wood around the window as pale hues stared into the forest where Atticus had disappeared. 

_‘He’s fine. Atticus is a big boy. He can take care of himself.”_ Nichole reasoned as she eyed the trees. It wasn’t any of her business what he did. If Atticus felt like he could go outside and take a walk after what had just happened then good for him. Yet, images of split skin and bleeding eyes sprung up as her ears rang with his shrill cries.

 _‘Atticus can do what he wants. He’s plenty old enough to know his limits.’_ Nichole just needed to wait. She’d see any second his scrawny and tall frame sauntering out of those woods in her red robe.

 _‘Damn you, Kane.’_

Nope. Never mind. Nichole wasn’t going to wait. So, without much thought she darted from her window and rushed outside. She didn’t bother wasting time putting on shoes as her feet were covered in thick and wooly socks, and in that moment she had deemed them to be enough coverage. She was too anxious to care about the wet ground or the twigs and stickers she’d step on. Nichole just couldn't wrap her head around why he was so desperate to leave her home, or go wandering into the bloody forest. He looked exhausted, terrified, partly delusional, and in pain.

Stepping over rocks and fallen logs Nichole followed the sound of groaning trees and voices. Her approach didn’t go unnoticed the closer she got. Nichole could feel eyes on her, but who’s she didn’t know. Even when she found Atticus she had no clue who the two standing stiff and unnaturally straight and still were. She did know instantly what they were though. The pale skin, amber eyes, and an unnatural beauty all screamed Cullen to her.

As she rapidly approached a twitching and stuttering Atticus she mentally noted that neither had curly blond locks.

“That’s enough, Atticus.” Nichole had never seen the boy unsteadily spin around so fast. His Eyes were wide as saucers and cheeks streaked in dull red. The mage looked mentally unstable and psychopathic. 

“Nicky?” He called out, shock evident in the tremor of his voice.

“You need to go lay down before you have a coronary on me. One episode was enough, and you will not play off whatever is going on here.” Nichole demanded as she walked right up to the fumbling and muttering teen. He looked at her like he had just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Guilt, worry, and agitation all flashing in his mossy hues.

“I-I-I-” It was frustrating Atticus that he couldn’t speak the words he wanted. That they seemed to keep getting lost before they left his mouth. Tears swelled and burned his throbbing sockets as Atticus stomped his foot. “N-n-n-o!”

Raising an eyebrow, Nichole approached and gently placed her hand on his elbow. She watched as relief washed over his tired face and felt his body shiver in delight. The groaning of the trees halted just as quickly. Over his shoulder amber eyes belonging to the one more scrawny and moody looking intruder widened. The immortal appeared to be shocked at something.

Nichole had no way of knowing that Edward could read minds. She had no inkling that until that moment when she grabbed Atticus’s arm that all he had been hearing was a jumbled mess of voices. That the girl who Jasper had attacked could wipe clean the noise -- leaving only one behind. 

Nichole knew not that when Edward tried to peer into her mind that his head physically felt like it was being assaulted. It wasn’t the same type of hurt a human would get if they had a migraine, because vampires didn’t get migraines. What Edward felt was closer to when one of his siblings ripped off one of his arms or feet, or when his head would hit something so hard that cracks would splinter across his marble skin.

Nothing had changed since Jasper had attacked her. The girl, Nichole, was still too much like a fuzzy radio with bad reception. There was a constant buzz to her mind. He could make out words and phrases but nothing ever came across full or clear.

“So, are we not gonna abort?” The burly creature asked. The low rumble of his voice sent shivers down Nichole’s back. It was a deep sound that was too comfortable on the ears. She disliked its effects instantly. To her surprise though the moodier of the two shot a warning look at the comment.

“What? They said not to get too close-” Pointing at Nichole and Atticus the bear of a man continued on. He sounded and looked clearly lost and confused. “-and we are hella close.”

He could clearly see the disappointment on the other Cullen’s face, but it didn’t seem to stop him as he stepped forward. A twinkle in his amber eyes had Nichole pulling Atticus back a few unsteady steps.

“Damn, Carlisle said you are still a living breathing warm little body but I didn’t actually believe it till now!”

“We’re glad to see you are doing better.” The other reluctantly added, and a soft smile now adored his pale face.

Nichole had no interest in interacting with them, just as she hadn’t with the good doctor or the beauty. She was more interested in getting Atticus back to the cottage and taking a nap.

Atticus, who had gone silent ever since she had grabbed his elbow, muttered something incoherent under his breath. Nichole eyed him briefly before focusing back on the main threat, and when it became clear neither of the humans were going to respond the bear took another step towards them. Nichole didn’t know how she felt about the look of worry that came over his face before he spoke. 

“You alright magic man?”

“Am I-I-I oooooo-ke? I’m a ffffff-ar cry from ok-key-dok-key!” Atticus cried as he dramatically waved the mutilated bird’s corpse at them. His ability to speak had improved drastically but he still was slurring his words and Nichole wondered if that had more to do with his anger than being overstimulated. “Those were my bird-eoeoes, and popping them was not cool! So not blueberries and worley-pearly cool!”

Or, maybe the boy had just overexerted himself and was just as equally upset. Nichole couldn’t tell, but whatever it was had him not watching his magic. Atticus was slowly slipping out of control again. The trees were groaning and swaying louder and more frequently with each word that passed his lips.

Then, she saw it. The thick trail of blood coursing from his pink nose.

“I said that’s enough.” Grabbing his chin Nichole yanked his head towards her before pressing her sleeve to his nose. “Tilt your head back.” She commanded as she stood on her tippy toes.

“I am not done here.” Atticus whined as he jerked around towards the vampires, grabbing Nichole’s hand so as to not lose the comfort she was providing.

“It is so on you zompires!” His mossy eyes narrowed and suddenly both hands spring up. Nichole’s brain didn’t process what had happened until Atticus was on his knees wheezing with tightly screwed shut eyes. Before she reached him Nichole could hear Atticus muttering. “I-I gonna…. smoke those stone.. fine… asses.”

Then, his head was bobbing backward. Nichole was by no means a string bean but if Atticus passed out on her here and now she wasn’t sure she’d be able to drag his ass back to the cottage.

“Would you like some help?”

“No.” Nichole snipped coldly to the burly one, sending a rather nasty look in the vampire’s direction. She did not want his help. “You’ve done enough damage. So, I’d like you and your friend to leave.”

Nichole fought back the nasty curl her lip wanted to do. Instead she focused on getting Atticus to his feet, and from there she’d figure out the rest.

“What? I thought it was worth asking?”

An obvious swoosh had Nichole glancing up. Instead of two vampires there only now stood one. She tensed, her body shaking under Atticus’s weight, where had the smaller one gone?

“This is just freaky!” Amber met pale grey and the giant bear smiled a very toothy grin at her. He almost looked like he could have been jumping around in joy. Nichole wasn’t sure if his kind could have ADHD but for an instant she thought it was possible. “Catch ya later!”

Then, the bear was gone.

Taking a deep breath Nichole focused back on Atticus. As she would soon find out the mage wasn’t much help on the journey back. He had magically become jello with an extra fifty pounds in bagged sand on his back. Not only that but the entire way the teen had managed to sputter curses and swear groggily that revenge would be his.

By the time they made it back to her cabin Nichole was sweating through her long sleeved shirt and cursing Kane as she grumbled and threw Atticus onto the guest bed. Her feet hurt, her back ached, and she had stubbed her big toe a total of four times during the trek back. Peeling off muddy and soaked socks Nichole examined her own feet before tossing the soggy clothing articles towards the hallway. 

Her attention then turned towards the unconscious mage. Despite being so close she hadn’t removed her hand from his skin yet. She knew keeping skin to skin contact would drive the dead off but she was hesitant to trust her mere presence after what had occurred. Atticus still hadn’t explained anything but Nichole knew his episode and what had happened in the forest had undoubtedly had to do with the Cullens. She didn’t trust that the immortals had left merely because she had told them to. They were being just as annoyingly invasive as the Good Doctor, the Beauty, and Atticus's own father Kane.

Nichole’s only want in being left alone to her own desolation was being ignored and blatantly disrespected by a wide variation of people in a span of a few short days. She was almost positive that at this point nothing was going to go back to the way she liked. The teen sleeping soundly on the bed beside her and the invasive Cullen family were too large of raging red flags for her to ignore and think otherwise.

She hated it but there was no denying things were changing. So, in the heavy silence Nichole quietly mourned the loss of her peaceful and once tranquil life. A small voice in her mind nagged at her to be happy and grateful for what peace she had managed to snag and not to be an ungrateful little prat. Instead of dwelling on the thought she focused on beating the voice back into its hole with a wooden bat. If Nichole felt like being an ungrateful little prat then she damn well was going to be one. All the shit she had gone through because of her curse should have granted her one hell of a free pass.

Tilting her head, so she could fully take in the peaceful look on Atticus’s face, Nichole felt memory lane cracking open. She had tried numerous times to not give into the pull she felt towards the boy. She had tried to drive him off with the cold shoulder and snippy and rude comments. Atticus was too clingy and chipper though to let such things offend him. 

They had met by accident after she had arrived for help three years ago, and after their initial meet and greet everywhere Nichole went she’d find Atticus. Just like now she had no interest in befriending him or serving as entertainment. Even as he followed and stalked her Nichole had ignored him and refused to communicate with him. She hadn’t come to realize until the boy was knocking at death's door how far he had managed to weasel himself into her stone heart, or how seeing him withering in pain as he fought a possession pained her.

It was one of the rare moments that Nichole couldn’t blame her curse. Her heart didn’t bleed often for strangers, and maybe that’s why she felt so attached to the boy. Atticus hadn’t ever felt like a stranger to her. It was what was so infuriating, because there was no reason for her to feel so attached to him.

It was ironic that her curse that only had caused misery and death could be a life line. By simply touching his bare skin Nichole had been able to force the corrupt soul to unlatch. Which allowed his fellow mages to banish and lock away the poltergeist. Then, for two days and three nights she sat with him. Kane had come to her as a worried and nearly broken father on his knees begging her to stay and keep the dead away. No one else could protect his son from the dead like she could, and Nichole hadn’t hesitated in accepting. She didn’t want to see him suffer anymore than he already had and if her sitting there holding his hand would allow him to recover then that’s what she’d do.

Nichole had come to accept begrudgingly and a tad bit terrified that it wasn’t just because her heart bled for the mage but because she had grown attached. She was doing the same now. Protecting him. The only difference was that Atticus wasn’t in danger of losing his life. He had been overstimulated. 

Something Nichole counted as lucky.

If it hadn’t been for how comfortable she felt when around Atticus and Kane she would have stayed with the coven. Her fear of growing attached, more so than she had begun to, had felt like it was smothering her. She couldn’t imagine anything but coming to care for them only to be torn harshly away and thrown into another timeline as another person. She couldn’t risk another heartache and had run.

 _‘Damn you, Kane.’_ The venom she had inflicted towards the man was gone in her thoughts as she stared at Atticus. Her eyes tracing the bruises beneath his eyes. She was positive he knew that she wouldn’t be able to say no to the teen, and she hated herself for not being able to. Nichole knew that when the time came for him to go to school she would follow, but not because she wanted to. She feared what would happen to him alone in a school with the Cullens and knew the guilt wouldn’t be something she’d be able to stomach. Especially, if there had been something she could have done to keep something bad from happening. 

Nichole cursed her bleeding heart and wondered who in hell thought it was a smart move to put five ancient beings in a bloody high school. Blood sucking creatures in a public place with one of the most annoying and immature groups of human beings on the earth. She wondered why they would even want to be in a place like that. She couldn’t see them wanting to make friends with humans that would eventually grow old and die.

Growling, more to herself than anyone else, Nichole shifted her angry gaze to the ceiling. She hated being manipulated and that’s what she felt like Kane had done. He knew she had taken a liking to his son and used that against her. Nichole knew Kane cared deeply for Atticus but right then as she glared at nothing she found him to be the worst type of father. She couldn’t find it in herself to forgive him for putting his child in danger like he was, and she couldn’t understand why he was doing any of this. What was to be gained by forcing her to socialize by attending high school? What lesson would Atticus learn by being left to practically fend for himself in Forks, Washington?

She’d soon find out Nichole supposed.

* * *

The burning in his throat had him moaning in desire. His thoughts were still dangerously deranged with animalistic desire. For hours he had envisioned her blood tracing its way into his mouth and down his throat. Despite how it was threatening to send him spiraling again Jasper couldn’t fight the temptation to imagine what he knew he couldn’t have. 

A shiver of delight traveled down his spine and escaped through his toes as Jasper’s mind replayed their first encounter once again. Having a mind that didn’t fade was both a blessing and a curse. He wished his mind wasn’t so sharp, but couldn’t help but find delight in the way her screams had satisfied his darker nature. It was wrong. Jasper knew that. He just couldn’t get past how encapsulated she had made him. He was a soldier turned predator and in no common sense should the feeling of being caged thrill him. Yet, it did. 

His mind knew the curse Carlisle had spoken about over Alice’s phone was the reason her blood had him so trapped. It made sense in a way. Jasper, just like any of his other family members and fellow vampires, had run into a blood singer once or twice in his long life. They were different from her however. While their blood appealed to certain vampires the girl he had attacked affected anything supernatural that could feast on her soft fleshy body. A _la tua cantante_ could take control temporarily away from a vampire but it rarely caused his current level of raising insanity.

She was bad for him and was threatening the safety of his family. Jasper should have hated her, or at least pestered his family into uproot and leave Forks. He had shared his worries but still it didn’t seem to be enough to cause them to abruptly leave. Which Jasper found odd because they had ran for less before. Alice couldn’t see the girl negatively affecting their future, but there was no comfort to find in that. There was a difference in her not appearing in their future and Alice not getting any solid grasp on her own personal future. No one should be that enigmatic or whimsy with their decisions. 

He had thought for sure they would have left after Carlisle had miraculously saved her and discovered that she was already entwined in the world of the supernatural through a coven of witches and warlocks. Instead, his family shocked him further when they decided to stay put. All because a mage had said her scent would be diluted drastically with a pendant and that the girl didn’t care if his family stayed or not. Did she really not fear his mind? Or, him?

Grinding his teeth, Jasper’s hands clasped tightly at his sides. He felt like he was a newborn once again with no control over his thirst. He wanted nothing more than to slip past Alice and begin hunting down the girl who was causing the madness steadily growing stronger and getting harder to ignore. If he slipped up this time it wouldn’t just be on Jasper it would be on his whole family. 

Suddenly flinching as a slight breeze blew past before a small hand brushed his elbow Jasper shot his hardened gaze down onto the short pixie at his side. The mere sight of Alice had Jasper wanting to scrub his invisible stain of guilt and shame away. He had been so consumed in his own world that he had unknowingly been letting his intentions seep out through his ability. She had felt everything he had - and still was experiencing.

In a move to fast for the human eye to follow Jasper turned his undoubtedly dark gaze away from her lighter orbs. Jasper couldn’t keep eye contact with her without consciously feeling the guilt and shame begin piling up on him because of his thoughts and actions. He knew he had done something awful and the weight of it only made Jasper feel worse about the whole ordeal. It didn’t help matters that despite the horror fest he had pushed on his family if he got the chance to go back and change things he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to change what had happened… and neither did The Major.

As sick and twisted as it made him feel for harming the girl Jasper hadn’t wanted to kill her. In the haze that had taken control of his body and mind he could clearly recall the wanting need to suck her dry but not kill her. Something in him had told him not to. He couldn’t place what but there was an instinct telling him that he shouldn’t kill her. 

Irony was a bitter sweet bitch it seemed. Jasper wanted to drink her dry but not kill her? Was he so sick and twisted that he felt he needed to turn her as well? It was this battle inside him that had kept him from breaking her arm or snapping any of her other bones as he drank. The darker part of him said to consume every last drop. It was the sweet burning hot taste of her singing blood that commanded him to finish what he had started in that moment. Then, there had been the other foreboding need thrumming through him. It wasn’t like anything he had ever felt. Not for Alice or the rest of his family.

Anger and confusion had his body vibrating and without much thought Jasper lashed out against a nearby wall of rock. Pain flares in his knuckles as they cracked but Jasper ignored the dull pulsation and focused on the satisfaction of watching the rock shatter and peel away in sharp glass like shards. The bits and pieces that bounced off him left not a scratch. 

Nothing he was doing was working. Jasper couldn’t get the girl from his mind. From the little he could remember even as a mortal there had been nothing like her that had him feeling like an addict. A really bad addict who wasn’t allowed to have another fix. His urges to track her down - hunt her - were driving Jasper mad. He could feel the Major side of him just on the edge of taking over. 

Glancing behind him towards Alice he found his friend to be staring vacantly into the distance. It was obvious she was lost in a vision and Jasper momentarily entertained the idea of slipping away to fulfill his craving. His feet stayed firmly in place and his opportunity slipped away when her head snapped in his direction.

“What did you see?” 

“Crows… with no eyes… Edward and Emmett were there.” Amber eyes darkened from his leaking ability focused on what Jasper couldn’t see before words spilt once more. “There’s a boy, young, maybe a teen, with green eyes and a wide toothy smile. He’s not right … not sane… somethings wrong.” 

She didn’t need to elaborate for Jasper to understand that even she didn’t know what to make of her vision. He watched patiently as Alice attempted to see more but it seemed that was all she could receive. If there was more she didn’t share. Which in the end left her where she had started. With a black eyed Jasper.

In a flurry she moved to his side to hug him. He was her dearest friend and she hated seeing him suffer. His ability wasn’t as wild as it had been but it still was needling at her. Telling her what Jasper didn’t want to share. 

“Sorry.” He mutters not looking her in the eyes. Instead he focuses on the prey they had been hunting that was grazing a few miles away. His eyes stayed trained on the deer as his mind circled about a morbid curiosity. Was he the worst thing to happen to the girl?

Carlisle hadn’t just told them she was cursed but also about how she supposedly died before the mark of her twenty-fourth birthday. Jasper had never really pondered on his never ending life as something bad, like Edward constantly did, but compared to being cursed to live and die over and over again he felt that maybe his immortal status was a blessing. Sure he had to live with everything he did but she had to suffer through not just dying but any pain that came with living. The hunger, the lust, the greed. Jasper wondered briefly if maybe she had experienced something worse than his species venom. Their type of poison was without a doubt one of the most painful things to ever exist but to someone who died contestant would it even hit her top twenty?

“You aren’t going to do anything.” Tightening her grip on him she rubbed her face into his chest before adding. “I can see that.”

Jasper fought back the grimace, schooling his facial features. She was lying and he could tell. Her emotional state was giving her away. Alice couldn’t tell what was going to happen. The little mortal’s future was hard to read, impossible it seemed for Alice even. 

Taking in a deep breath, one he didn’t need, Jasper tried to fight his mind from slipping back to the mortal. It was a weak attempt that he failed to achieve. A part of him craved for when her pendant would be finished and he could return home. While another part of him feared what would happen when the two of them eventually met. Jasper had his doubts about the magic actually being able to nullify her scent, but he wished desperately that when the time came the desire to rip out her throat wouldn’t be as strong. 

Either way Jasper had already decided that even if it worked he would keep his distance, just as he did with all humans. He had even thought about leaving and staying with the Denali Coven just to be cautious. Whatever would follow Jasper knew he would have to keep the safety of his family in his mind above all else. Just because her blood called to him didn’t mean he wanted to risk capturing the Volturi's attention anymore than his family already had managed to.

“Why don’t we do some hunting?” Jasper's suggestion had Alice peeling herself from him. Her eyes caught his and she could see exactly what he meant. It had her lips peeling back in a wide toothy wicked grin. One that something so sweet looking shouldn’t have been able to do. Jasper wasn’t who he used to be when he was with Maria and he was going to do everything in his power to prove that. 

“Race you!” 

For the first time his lips curled up in a smile that wasn’t related to his internal plans on killing the dark skinned mortal. His feet flew across the ground rapidly as he chased after the one who had pulled him from the darkness he had been stuck in. 

Jasper just had to keep reminding himself that he was no longer that creature with bloody red eyes that hunted humans. He was Jasper Hale. A brother and son of the Olympic Coven. He had amber eyes and chose to feast on the blood of animals.

He was no longer a puppet being controlled by Maria.

* * *

**I said Jasper would be showing up soon didn't I? Well here he is! I thought we needed a bit of Jasper to spice things up as everything is beginning to pick up! I truly can't wait for when Nichole and him get to meet again! Let's hope this time there's less blood and fighting and near death moments!**

**The Twilight Saga is Owned by Stephenie Meyer**  
Other Characters and Plot Developments belong to Jemstone6259  
And lastly, a special thank-you to the readers!


	11. Chapter 11

“ _It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to._ "

\- by **J.R.R Tolkien** -

* * *

Atticus could not tear his gaze off the person reflecting back at him in the mirror. Nichole was right, he did look healthier. The color had returned to his cheeks, his eyes weren’t as bloodshot and dry, and the bags beneath his eyes looked to have faded greatly after sleeping for nearly two days. Atticus still had a look of being tired and worn out plastered across his mug, there was no arguing with that, but in truth he had never felt so rejuvenated. It was like inside him was a lit firework stuck in the split second after an explosion. When all its energy was just beginning to be utilized. In all honesty it felt the same as when he would lose control and his magic would begin to leak out and cause mischief. 

Today, no matter what, he would need to make sure he didn’t lose control. Calm and collect. Atticus would keep away from the Cullen’s and ignore the dead that clung to them. He’d be fine. If he followed those two simple rules what possibly could go wrong on the first half day of school?

“I’m not going to die.” He stared into his own mossy green eyes, daring himself not to break contact until he had convinced himself all would be well. Yet, as he repeated the phrase Atticus fingers refused to follow his order to unwind themselves from the rim of the vanity. Which left the issue that if he couldn’t make his fingers listen how in the holy triple goddesses was he going to make his feet move to take him to the rental vehicle parked outside. It wasn’t like he could stay holed up in Nichole’s personal bathroom for the rest of the day, and every day to follow.

A laughter, not as light as it sounded, had Atticus shrinking to the floor. It was the bloody first day of school and he was already contemplating skipping. If it wasn’t for the two missed calls from his father Atticus might have entertained the idea and tried his luck at persuading the old man into letting him stay home with Nichole. At least until the pendant finished… because it would need a mage to watch over it…. Would that be a believable and reasonable cause that his father would agree to? Smacking his head against the wooden cabinet door Atticus groaned. It most certainly wouldn’t be an acceptable reasoning, and his father would only scold him before inquiring about Nichole to see if she would be going to school when the pendent finished settling. That there was what stopped Atticus from picking up or dialing back his father. The risk of persuading Nichole to go to high school was a terrifying topic Atticus wanted to avoid for as humanly possible. Atticus would sooner try to lie to his father then tell him that he hadn’t even attempted to convince Nichole into going, and he wasn’t even a convincing liar.

Then, there was the other problem. The reason why he was so terrified to leave the cottage and the beautiful protection Nichole was coating him constantly in. Five drop dead, stone carved, gorgeous and deadly viscous blood sucking bugs -- in other words known as the Cullens. Atticus hadn’t been able to get over the knowledge that there was going to be five of them roaming the grounds of the school at all plausible hours. Five completely ancient and immortal supernatural entities with countless lost souls clinging to them. The mere notion had Atticus’s belly twisting and flipping with dreaded anticipation to the point he was making himself feel sick.

A sudden intrusion of soft knocks came from the door behind him, and the humming he was half conscious of ceased.

“Atticus, I need to pee hurry up.” Nichole’s groggy voice came from the other side, and in typical Atticus fashion the mage didn’t make a peep. He hoped that if she didn’t get a response she’d waddle off in a huff of impatience and go to the bathroom connected to the room he was staying in. Then, and only after she’d go back to bed and Atticus could pretend he never had another chance to approach her with the idea of going to high school on Monday. Her new pendant was still settling so Nichole not going today was understandable. Friday, the day to follow Thursday, was iffy and he wouldn’t know if the settling was truly completed until the magic actually settled. If he got lucky it would finish late tomorrow evening. Which would leave him the weekend to figure out a plan of proposition. He still had time to get her to agree and go willingly to high school and right this second was not the moment for that special little talk. Atticus could feel that in his bone marrow. 

“Atticus?”

What if he promised something in return? His things hadn’t arrived yet, including his own beloved car, but once they got here he could do something magical for her. Like unbreakable and non-fraying friendship bracelets? Or, maybe he could stuff something -- the cat could do for that. Girls no matter their age liked stuffed toys still right?

Thoughts shifted when the doorknob rattled and Nichole hissed something he couldn’t decipher under her breath. Clearly someone wasn’t getting the message from the silent treatment he was dishing out, or his nonsense humming that had returned full throttle.

“I needed toilet paper.” His sudden confession had the knob stop its incessant jiggling.

“What?”

“And some make-up, but I see you don’t have any of that. Girl, why don’t you have any make-up? Why do I have more than you back home?” Unlocking the door and swinging it open, to reveal a slightly frazzled beheaded teen, Atticus exhibited his pearly white teeth in a smile that was too big. He hadn’t really run out of toilet paper, or needed her make-up, but in that instant it felt weird to tell her that he had just wanted to be closer before his inevitable departure. Atticus wanted to savor the silence for a few minutes longer before the dead returned and he was left to loiter in their worlds.

She wasn’t convinced, Atticus could see that in the way her eyes expressed themselves. Though he wasn’t sure if he was happy or disappointed in the way she pressed her lips together and kept all opinions muted. Did he want to hear her call him out? To ask him what was bothering him? Before he could decide dark fingers wrapped around his elbow and Nichole yanked him the rest of the way out of _her_ bathroom. When the door shut behind her he was left with a hole in the gut.

Atticus had wanted her to stop and ask him what was going on, but she hadn’t and for that he was happy. What would he have even said? That he feared going to a normal high school without advanced magical lessons? That he wanted to cry because of the thought of running into not just one but any of the Cullens? That his father had left him here in this damp and stupid little town with expectations Atticus couldn’t begin to understand? 

Forcing his feet to move Atticus went on in silence, or at least the most he could manage with whispering voices egging at his mind. He grabbed bulky rings and put on two while shoving the other three into his jacket pockets, before reluctantly tugging on one of his darker beanies over un-brushed locks of brown. Then, as he made for the exit Atticus pressed a sticky note to the door. Only after setting his bottom into the seat of the rental car his father had delivered to the property did it occur to him that he hadn’t the foggiest clue how to get to Forks High School. Sure he had seen through the eyes of his raven but that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t paid much attention to street signs.

“Dagnabit!” Was the only appropriate replacement for the word fuck that came to Atticus as he struck hard down on the stirring wheel.

* * *

If Atticus kept reminding himself that there were worse fates than rolling up to your new high school during the very start of your senior year forty minutes late then maybe the angry twitch his left eye was doing would go away. He also needed to be grateful that at least he wasn’t going to be feeling ridiculous in the rental his father had gotten him till his own vehicle came. 

“Just take it in stride.” Atticus muttered moodily under his breath as he pulled into an open spot near the rear of the student parking. This was far from the start he had imagined, or wanted, and it was a miracle that what was boiling beneath his skin wasn’t just a panic attack. Sucking in a breath as he turned the car off and removed the keys Atticus let his head rest against the steering wheel and his eyes slip shut. Focusing not on the prickling of pain behind his ears from the dead Atticus sent a silent pleading prayer to the goddesses. Asking them to give him strength to get through the trying day ahead of him.

He wasn’t sure what to expect. Besides his own paranoia Atticus hadn’t faced anything abnormal since leaving Nichole’s residence. There had been no increase in the dead’s activity and no sign yet that he could pick-up of the Cullens. When Atticus focused on the natural flow of esse there was nothing off putting or distracting, not like there had been back in the forest when he had been face to face with a boulder and a beanpole. There was a comfort in the flow as it traveled through him and it had Atticus wanting to remove his shoes and sink his feet into the soft damp ground beyond this slab of concrete he had parked on.

Letting the thrill of a quiver take his body, Atticus picked up his head and scanned the outside world. It looked so inviting and warm. In the short amount of time he had been here Atticus hadn’t once seen the sun shine like it was today, or the sky this baby-blue. In the light painting his skin Atticus could feel the suns warm woven strands. It had him almost not caring about the constant checklist being repeatedly said by a dead janitor, who Atticus knew must have had Mysophobia when he was still alive.

Finally slinking out, Atticus made his way towards one of the maroon colored buildings in defeat. There was no avoiding the inevitable and sooner or later Atticus would have to face his senior year, and all it was going to come with. He had asked for this, and by golly the goddesses were handing him it on a silver platter. It would be rude not to accept the story they were giving him. Atticus just hadn’t put into perspective that for it he’d have to go through an adventure. One set to begin in late August where the outdoor temperature was seventy-something degrees. At least he could find a bit of rapture in the breeze brushing against his blushing cheeks. It was a nice difference to the beating heat he would have felt back home, but Atticus could have done without the humidity clinging to his skin. He missed the constant sunshine of his own state and had found himself resenting the lack thereof it here in Washington. 

What was not as welcoming was the moment he stepped inside and was smacked with a rushing wall of heat. Atticus had been comfortable outside and now he wanted nothing more than to strip himself of his light coat. Yet, instead he pushed through the blaze and put the best guilty face on he could manage before entering the main office. Being late had its good points. Such as not having to wait in a crowd to get your class schedule, and being able to appreciate the mini greenery inside the small room.

Upon reaching the front desk Atticus gave his name and an apology about being late, blaming it on his nervousness and horrid sense of directions, to an older woman with what Atticus took to be hideously dyed red hair. The color did not mash with her brown eyes. The lady - Mrs. Cope as the name plate read - was giving him the judgy stink eye. One Atticus couldn’t decide if it was because she didn’t like his name, that he was late, or his sense of fashion. Though he had to give it to her for she covered up her look of disdain quickly with a friendly smile and soft spoken words.

“Welcome to Forks! I’m sure your first hour teacher will be understanding with you being new and all, but let’s try not to make a habit of being late.” It was painfully obvious to Atticus that she had labeled him a hoodlum. A child undoubtedly that was going to cause mischief all because his father evidently was being a horrid parental guidance. She most likely expected him to have no sort of understanding for modern guidelines or rules to mannerisms that would form him into a solid and respectable youngster. Atticus wondered if her judgmental-ness was because of the tattoos crawling across the skin she could visibly see, or the large rings decorating his fingers. Maybe, it was the dark rings under his eyes that he hadn’t been able to cover since Nichole didn’t own any make-up.

“Trouble? Me? Never.” Smiling all teeth he watched in amazement as she paused in her search for his schedule. She did not look to trust a word coming from his mouth. “Oh, and while I’m here may I get my cousin’s schedule as well? Nichole Dante is her name, and she won’t be in today. The summer flu has her in bed on orders of Doctor Cullen.”

Atticus had never seen someone’s eyes spark to life so quickly, or curiosity drown out suspicion. It had him wondering if vampires could manipulate humans like he had read sirens could, or if they could hypnotize with their eyes like a fairy. His train of thought shifted to his own curiosity of big hairy dogs as the soul still clinging to the secretary chatted animatedly about adolescence and a small dog named Ginger passing. He didn’t know the elderly man’s name or his relationship to the living lady before him but the remembrance down memory lane had Atticus zoning out.

“Mr. Klaihe?” A hand had his mossy gaze shifting to sit back on the secretary and not on the empty space he felt the soul would have been. Atticus hadn’t even noticed himself spacing out and getting lost.

“I’m alright. Just a bit tired.” Letting his shoulders sag and a deep breath to leave his lungs, Atticus looked to find both of the schedules sitting on the surface of her desk for him to take. “Would you mind repeating yourself?”

“Do try to pay attention, Mr. Klaihe. As I said already the top sheet is a copy of your schedule. If you ever lose it or need it copied for application use due to being a senior feel free to come here to the main office or to the counselors office.” Atticus had thought she had mispronounced his last name the first time. He wasn’t sure before and hadn’t wanted to embarrass himself by correcting her so he hadn’t said anything, but now that he knew he had heard right he couldn’t help himself.

“Thank you,” He glanced at her little receptionist nameplate in reassurance. “- Mrs. Cope. You have been of the utmost help and I couldn’t have asked for a better brief guide.” Collecting the papers he smiled one last time before adding. “Oh, and my last name is pronounced Klahie not Klaihe.”

“My apologies.” Mrs. Cope quickly apologized as her cheeks flared red.

“Not a problem.” Dipping his head in a farewell Atticus twisted on his heels and headed for the exit. His attention now on the two schedules in his hands, and most certainly not on the fugly orange carpet below. His own list of classes were on top and Nichole’s below.

At the top in thick bold lettering it read, “ ** _Forks High School Senior Schedule_** _”._ Then, listed below were his classes. Calculus with Mr. Varner. Health and Culinary with Miss Grisson. English 12 with Mr. Berty. Advanced Latin online in Room A-23. Then, there’d be a forty five minute time lot for lunch. Which was quickly followed up by dreadful Gym with a Coach Clapp (Group C) and Anatomy/Physiology with Mr. Newburn.

Atticus didn’t know a single teacher listed, or where to find each of his classes listed on the hideous navy blue and gold paper. So, he did what was expected and came to a halt as he traded his out for Nichole’s. As he scanned it he wondered what she would think when she saw it. Would she dread the lengthy hour of gym and her math class like he already was? Or, would she not care? What would she think of the cafeteria food? Atticus hadn’t decided yet if he would bring a packed meal or deal with whatever this school would decide to try and serve him. Gnawing on his bottom lip, Atticus tucked the papers away into his pocket. As curious as he was Atticus needed to first persuade her into going. It was something he couldn’t avoid forever, and a conversation he knew he’d have to bring up if not tonight then this weekend. His father would be very upset if Atticus didn’t figure out how to get Nichole to go to Forks High School -- home of the dear Spartans! He had seen the sign outside the school and the multiple fliers decorating the hallways too many times to not remember. 

Suddenly, the fact today was only a half day felt too short to Atticus. He only had the first four hours and lunch to get through before he would be dismissed, along with the other students, to go home. Finding his classes and explaining his tardiness didn’t feel so overwhelming compared to the complication that was Nichole Dante.

Lucky him once Atticus started walking and looking at the door numbers carved above the rooms it didn’t take him long to find the classroom for his first hour. Awkward and unsure if he should just open the door and waltz in Atticus stood and stared at who he assumed was Mr. Varner. Silently cursing himself for being late, Atticus did his best to not fidget or look remotely as nervous as he was feeling inside. It didn’t work and when the door groaned, announcing to all he was here, Atticus wanted to burn it.

“You must be Mr. Klahie.” A dark look from his first hour teacher didn’t have Atticus feeling anymore welcome here than he did in the main office. There was a heavy weight of being judged beneath Mr. Varner’s stern gaze. Atticus was beginning to think that simple minded buffoons was too nice of a title for the people of Forks. Still he smiled and stepped in with his back straight. There would be no shaming Atticus for what he was. The ink that marked his skin was due to the magic he specialized in. Never had he before had to feel shame because they covered skin that couldn’t be covered with a shirt or long pair of pants. Such feelings most certainly wouldn’t begin now.

“I apologize for being late. I live right outside the city with my cousin and didn’t think getting here would have been so complicated.” Just like the receptionist there was a level of skepticism in this man’s eyes, but unlike Mrs. Cope the man before Atticus didn’t attempt to hide his inner feelings.

“Did you get lost finding your first hour classroom as well?” Mr. Varner asked as he stepped closer. It was obvious that he, and the rest of the classroom, were inspecting every inch of Atticus. Mostly the dark ink that had crawled its way up his spine, to the base of his hairline on the back of his neck, to the markings over his jawline and behind his ears. It seemed many didn’t appreciate the art of Atticus’s people.

“Not really, but it was a bit difficult to figure which building had this classroom.” 

“Did you not think to use your map?” This was the first Atticus was hearing of a map. Was he supposed to get one, because the secretary most certainly hadn't given him or Nicky one.

“Mrs. Cope must have forgotten to get me a copy, but a map of the campus would have been most helpful.” Atticus’s attention wandered away from his teacher and to the silent class eagerly waiting to see what would unfold. It was hard to keep from smiling when the impulse came. Even with shoes on Atticus could feel the energy of their esse buzzing with excitement and curiosity. He liked the tingling warmth it flushed his body with. It was a short lived high that momentarily blinded him from the dull throb behind his ears. The school was rather dead when it came to the dead. Which was a pleasant surprise that Atticus hadn’t expected. Sure there were a few souls about that were constantly muttering and talking but it was nothing Atticus couldn’t handle. If there was a mass they were to spread out to cause any harm to his mentality.

For once Atticus felt at ease with how the day might playout. He had a feeling that a certain family of beautiful immortals weren’t present, and if he didn't have to face that challenge then the judgement of a small simple place like Forks was nothing he couldn’t handle. If it became too much of a nuisance Atticus could always persuade them to twist their way of thinking with a bit of magic.

“What do you have next?”

“I do believe it’s Health and Culinary with Miss Grisson.” Memorization was an important skill for a mage and Atticus had found himself rather fond of the trait his father had made sure to drill into him. He despised math not because it was easy to memorize but because one should not mix letters in with numbers. It complicated things beyond an understanding Atticus could grasp. 

“You’ll pass the main building next hour. It would do you well to pick up a map before the day is over or you will be late to each of your classes, and I can assure you that not all of your teachers will be as understanding as I am being.” Understanding wouldn’t be the word Atticus would use to describe Mr. Varner. If anything the man was being a menace to the new student because he disliked how Atticus looked. Those two details combined had the smile on Atticus’s face twisting up into a more sharp curve. The balding little menace really shouldn’t play with fire, because fire tends to burn you.

“Thank you, for the advice. I’ll make sure to get a map before next period.” With his hands in his pockets Atticus didn’t worry about anyone seeing him twitch his fingers in the general direction of his teacher. The pain behind his ears intensified as Mr. Varner stumbled over his own two feet and found himself suddenly stammering over his words.

“In-introduce yo-your-se-self an-d ta-ake a sea-seat in-in **in the back**.” The continuous shift in Mr. Varner’s voice was mildly entertaining for not just Atticus but the entire gossiping class. It was just too strange to hear the balding man’s voice change from being either too deep or slightly too high pitched to not be found funny.

“Gladly.” Atticus said before turning his fully undivided attention to the students seated along long tables. In that moment as he spoke Atticus was unaware of how much his accent flared. While his tone was upbeat his accent came across as such a playful tune, as if he were the star of his own movie. The students of Forks found themselves fascinated with the newcomer.

“My name is Atticus Klahie. I am eighteen, but will be nineteen next June. I am from Brookings, South Dakota, and currently living with my dear cousin on a property that has long since been in the family.” Briefly pausing to gather his thoughts, Atticus quickly added. “Any questions?”

“Th-that wi- **will** be eno-ugh. **Thank you Mr. Klahie** , an-an-d pleassse **take your seat at table four**. Do-do remove the- **the** hat as-s well.” Mr. Varner shot down all hope the students had of learning more about the tattooed teen with the cheesy smile. Hands that were raised slowly fell back down to the tables and open mouths snapped shut. Atticus though turned to face his teacher with one last large cocky grin.

“Oh, and Mr. Varner.” The balding man raised an eyebrow at Atticus. He looked aggravated at the incorporation of his own vocal abilities. “I am not some hoodlum or yabbo. The markings upon my skin are a representation of the religion and way of life of my clan. They are in a more common way of wording tribal markings. As for my beanie I think I’d like to keep it on if that’s alright with you.”

The last part about Atticus’s beanie was uttered softer than the rest of his sentences, and only after Atticus was sure he had total eye contact with his math teacher. The buzzing in the base of his ears increased as Mr. Varner’s face scrunched. It was the clarification that Atticus could keep his beanie on that gave away to the mage that his mini mind manipulation had worked. The thrill that ran through Atticus at the accomplishment made him giddy. Such magic on creatures with complicated brains and a will of their own made magic like Atticus had just done tricky. There were too many loopholes and often it didn’t work and would rebound onto the one casting. What Atticus had done would never have worked back in the coven’s place of learning, and would result in his bottom turning red if his father ever found out. It was a dark art, and not something many looked well upon. But, what others didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Atticus hadn’t meant any harm and in the end no one had been harmed. It was one of many actions Atticus would be taking to his grave. After all what harm would come of him keeping his beanie?

* * *

The remainder of the first hour and second passed in a flash of unexpected time. Unlike what Mr. Varner had suggested, Miss Grisson, who would be teaching him Health and Culinary, had been by far the most understanding adult in the entire school as of yet. She had been completely understanding when Atticus had explained why he had been running a few minutes late after the last bell had rung. The kind nature of the woman had Atticus thinking he might enjoy spending time in this class. That thought though diminished slightly when she asked him to remove his hat. If Atticus had been a bit more aware he would have tried to manipulate her mind, but before he thought to do so his hand had already removed the beanie from unruly brown locks. Exposing to all a mess that was Atticus’s morning hair.

Past that the classes passed nicely. He was given a syllabus in each that showed the pace and direction each of his classes would be taking, and thankfully none of the other teachers asked him to introduce himself like he had done in calculus. It didn’t stop eyes from wandering his way or hushed questions from being asked, but other than that the children of Forks seemed to be genuinely interested in him as a person.

It was during English 12 with Mr. Berty, a man with well groomed hair and a rather lackluster suit, did a solution to Atticus’s biggest issue come to him. It had him doing his best to hide his peppy grin as he buzzed with unused energy. Nichole might even like the plan since it would be her remaining in her home on Friday. Which in return would give Atticus a solid three days to figure out how to persuade her into changing her mind and coming to high school, because why not spend long days in stinky hallways with dramatic and gossiping youngsters. The second half of his plan was to corner the head of the Cullen family in his workplace after school. Atticus knew the man had called himself a doctor to his father and Nichole but it still was a bit of a shocker to discover, from talkative students of Forks, that Carlisle actually was a doctor and a renowned one right here in their dinky little town. Atticus wondered just how that worked. Wouldn’t the man be affected by the constant assault of bleeding people? Was his self control that great? 

Besides the curiosity growing to meet the head of the vampires in Forks there was something else just as equally interesting that Atticus had learned. The Cullen kids weren’t in school. Reason why was currently unknown. Atticus wondered if maybe they were avoiding public places until Nichole’s pendant finished. Maybe, they hoped that by keeping their distance they could avoid a possible second accidental attack. If that was the case then why hadn’t they just removed themselves and moved onto somewhere else? The whole situation was confusing and befuddling, and Atticus didn’t like being on the blindside of it. He hoped by cornering the doctor he’d be able to get a few answers that would surpass if the pendant worked or not. Atticus didn’t doubt the capability of the enchanted object, but he would feel significantly better by running a safety check. Nichole would be the test subject and the doctor the dummy.

When lunch time came many wandered towards the cafeteria. As for Atticus he did not. He had gone as far as politely rejecting invitations to dining just so he could spend the next forty-five minutes hunting down a locker he hadn’t known he had been assigned. It made him miss his coven’s way of teaching all the more as he frowned down at the crumpled schedule sheet and the number printed near the bottom right corner.

“So, what’d you think of classes?” Startled Atticus jumped, his long fingers fumbling with the ridiculous lock keeping his locker shut, as a boy with sandy blond hair and hazel eyes materialized at his side. Did Atticus know this pimply kid?

“Same as where I came from before. I was surprised though that none of the teachers assigned any work. I’m so used to being loaded with stuff to do from day one.”

“Wait till tomorrow. I’ve heard they really hit hard down on the seniors.”

“Splendidity.”

* * *

The first day of school ended with a rather bland assembly. Atticus still didn’t know the name of the individual who had appeared outside his locked locker during the lunch break, but that didn’t stop Atticus from letting the shorter teen lead him to the gymnasium. The group of teens he sat with Atticus hadn’t recognize, but Atticus made a very educated guess that these peeps were friends of the Asian. 

At first it hadn’t been so bad but as more people filed in and took their seats on the bleachers the more Atticus wished he had taken a seat near the door in the front row. Being high up and jammed packed between people he didn’t know on uncomfortable bleachers had Atticus feeling a bit overwhelmed. It didn’t help either that with each warm body came their personal invisible baggage.

_It will do you some good to read Shakespeare, Mark Twain, and Charles Dickens works. They are true masterpieces and better than that fantasy garble you waste your time obsessing over._

_He’s not worth it. Jocks never are. You can do so much better than him, Abby. What about that cute girl in second hour? The one with the curly black hair and freckles?_

_Dear, there is something I need to tell you. Pepper’s been hit by a truck._

_Happiness…. It only comes in the form of a clean house and a pristine school._

Atticus flinched as the girlish and high pitched giggling returned. He could have sworn the owner of the voice was right behind him, and for the umpteenth time Atticus wanted nothing more than to twist around and hiss at her to stop squealing like a piglet. That whatever she was laughing about wasn’t funny and that the sound coming from her mouth could kill as easily as a bat to the head. Atticus didn’t do this though, because no good would come from verbally attacking the large jock sitting directly behind him.

“Welcome back! Welcome, and we are so happy to see all your faces once more for another glorious school year.” The monotone buzz of voices from the living quieted as the head of the school approached a podium strategically set up before the bleachers the students had seated themselves in. Atticus attempted to pay some attention but with the fridge in his head buzzing away concentrating was slightly difficult to do. “To the new students I am Principle Greene. The staff and I welcome all new and old back to Forks. I hope you all had a great summer and are as excited for what is to come as we are. Your teachers and the rest of the staff have been hard at work and have a great educational year planned ahead.”

The whines caught in Atticus throat were swallowed back down to his belly. His body was uncontrollable shivering, almost as if he were cold, and Atticus was doing everything he could think of to distract himself. Fingers fiddled with the bulky rings in his pockets, toes curled in his shoes, and mossy green orbs were soaking in all the details the gymnasium had to offer. Atticus was seconds short of bolting, and blaming it on an upset tummy, when he spotted a man standing with the other teachers. 

He knew that man standing with a lazy smile and a flower crown nestled neatly in his floppy brown locks. Well, not necessarily did Atticus know the adult but he remembered seeing him through his puppets eyes. He had been badgering the officer outside the diner. Unlike before when he had been seeing a world of black and white through his raven’s eyeless sockets Atticus didn’t get a wave of unease. The memory had a frown taking form on Atticus’s lips, and as the principle speech went on Atticus’s gaze didn’t falter from the teacher. 

_‘Who are you?’_

“Hey, so what are you doing after?” The voice was unexpected, causing Atticus to twitch when an elbow jabbed him in the ribcage. Grumbling under his breath and fighting back a twitch of the fingers that would serve some sort of revenge towards the pimply teen Atticus turned his attention away from the stranger crowned in flowers. 

“I’ve gotta stop by the hospital and talk with one of the doctors there. Why?” A gentle shrug came from the teen and behind his thick rimmed glasses eyes darted to the ginger sitting on Atticus’s left. Then, just as quickly he peered back at Atticus.

“Really? Everything good?”

“Yeah, it’s just a quick check up. I got into an accident and hurt my back recently.”

“Dude sorry to hear.” The ginger to his left whispered as he glanced sideways at him before focusing on their principle. “We were gonna go to Carver Café for some actual food. Xander thought to invite you since you and I are in the same third and fourth hour.”

A smile twitched into place as Atticus put the information he had just learned to memory. At least now he had a name for the teen who had jumped out at him in the hallway. As for the ginger Atticus couldn’t recall seeing or talking to him before now, not that he had tried that hard to mingle with those in his classes. His mind had been too worried over keeping an eye out for the Cullens and figuring out his master plan for his predicament with Nichole. 

“Next time maybe.” Atticus stated as he watched as Principal Greene began to wrap up his speech and begin the process of the goodbyes. Then, everyone was standing and slowly moving to get out of the school. The gym soon filled with bubbling voices to the point Atticus couldn’t decipher who belonged to the land of the living and those through the veil of death. Not worrying much over it a hand reached out and grabbed the shoulder of the ginger in front of him.

“Want to trade numbers?” Atticus shouted as he shoved his hand in to fish out his phone. A look was casted over the gingers shoulder, but the smile showing off his teeth told Atticus all he needed to know. Leaving his phone in his pocket till he was outside Atticus trailed after the ginger. 

“So, which is your ride?” Xander asked as he came bouncing up to Atticus's side. The teens glasses sliding down his nose in the process. Atticus tried to seek out the rental car but between the sea of bodies and vehicles retreating back to blacktop Atticus couldn’t find it.

“Somewhere in the back.” Atticus pointed. “It’s a rental. My car isn’t here yet.”

“What didn’t think you’d need it when you moved down here?” The ginger jokingly asked as he took Atticus’s phone from his hand. Atticus had never bothered with setting a password but with the conversations on his phone he was beginning to think he might need to if people were going to get handsy with the device. For now though Atticus simply kept an eye on the ginger as he put his name and number into the phone.

“Didn’t know I’d be staying. It was a bit of a surprise my father threw at me at the last minute.” Retrieving his phone with a forced laugh Atticus scanned the number and name on the screen. Adam Redford. It was a fitting name, especially the last part of the gingers name.

“You’ll have to tell us about it some time.” Adam retorted as he pulled the door of his rusty pickup open and tossed in his bag. “Oh and dude, I dig the ink. It’s bold.”

* * *

_I don’t belong here. I need to leave.  
I need a nurse! A nurse! NURSE!  
Dinner by five, reading by seven, and in bed by ten.  
Jimmy, you better not be running in the hallway. I am not afraid to whoop your bottom in public!_

Atticus had been sitting in the visitors parking lot for thirty minutes, and still he didn’t make a move to remove himself from the rental cars drivers seat. It felt like he was back at Nichole’s cozy little cottage and was staring at the reflection of himself all over again, but this time instead of seeing himself there was just a treacherously dangerous building. A building with a white-ish outer color, a tanned roof, and a sign that read “ _Forks Community Hospital”._

If at all possible Atticus did his best to avoid hospitals, healing huts, and area’s with large amounts of deep and dark water. Death wasn’t always kind. Atticus knew that. It snatched and kidnapped without judgment or guilt. Just as it brought peace and closer. Places like hospitals were riddled with those who hadn’t passed on yet. Atticus hadn’t even left the car yet and he could already feel the pressure building behind his temples. 

_Henry? Excuse me, have you seen my husband?_

_Poppy, dear do you remember when we went to that lake and found those shells? I want to go back after my surgery….. Don’t cry… Oh, Poppy...._

Shifting in his seat Atticus gripped the keys in his right hand a bit tighter as he shook his head. He needed to focus, and not allow himself to so easily get sucked into the worlds of the dead. If he was going to venture into that den of death then he needed to have a semi clear mind. 

“For Nicky.” He told himself as he finally stepped outside. Just as he mentally noted in reassurance that all would be ok. This was nothing compared to his encounter with the two Cullen zompires. 

Dodging those who worked in the hospital and other common folk Atticus took himself right up to the front desk. The mini fridge that had finally subsided after leaving school was back with vengeance. Making Atticus undoubtedly look a bit like a tweaker. 

“Excuse me, Miss. Is Doctor Cullen in?” The pressure kept on building as a pair somewhere in the near vicinity began to scream. The noise and pain bouncing about the inner workings of his skull had Atticus’s eyes sliding briefly into the back of his head as he leaned against the tall counter protecting the receptionist's desk. 

“Do you have an appointment?” Muted blue barley glanced up from where her fingers were clacking away on keys. If she found his behavior strange she didn’t show it. In fact Atticus was pretty darn sure she hadn’t even looked up when he had nearly collapsed.

 _‘What is wrong with you people?’_ The longer Atticus clung to the counter the more aware he became of all the reasons he shouldn’t be here. Hospitals were unpredictable. They could be dangerous one second and tolerable the next. Those stuck often felt trapped and that sort of emotional statues nearly always lead to aggressive spirits. _‘Curly... pumpkin fries…. Why me?’_

“Nope.” He popped the p more than was necessary before straightening his posture and curling his fingers around the edge. “But, I really need to speak with him.”

“I apologize then. Without an appointment I can’t do much for you. Doctor Cullen is a very talented man and has many important things to do. If you would like though you can fill out this paperwork and we can set up an appointment for you.” Atticus didn’t have time for this. He needed to speak with the doctorly vampire before his mind slipped and he accidently reached out to the dead. 

_‘Focus. Concentrate. Don’t let them get to you. **Ignore**.’ _

“You must be Mr. Klahie's boy. Your father told me you’d be coming in after school.” Atticus’s head shot up and the sudden movement had his vision darkening and the world spinning. The lure of such a gentle voice though had Atticus smiling. 

“Indeed I am. It’s a peachy perfect pleasure of mine to finally be able to meet you, doc.” Standing in the doorway on the other end of the room was a tall man with a pale appearance and blonde hair. The smile on his face had Atticus thinking of the bright sun outside, and popcorn. Strangely Atticus had found himself with the craving for butter and salt covered popped kernels of corn.

Turning so his back was towards the grumpy and rude receptionist Atticus watched in a haze as the golden doctor practically floated towards where he was slouching. When Dr. Cullen was finally before him the smile that had been on his face had fallen into a worried frown. There was a silent question being asked. 

_Are you alright?_

Atticus became still and quiet as one of the individuals in his head started shouting and screaming. The heat and anger in his voice leaking into Atticus till the flower vase behind him fell over spilt across a carpeted floor. 

“We need to talk.” Atticus stated quietly, his mind partially on the moody lady behind him. The receptionist most certainly hadn’t expected for her vase of flowers to fall over like it had, and Atticus knew she would blame him for it. She just wouldn’t be verbal about her accusation. Atticus didn't share the same amount of modesty as he twisted all the way about and planted a solid hand on her exposed arm. Dull blue bounced between his tight grip and mossy eyes.

Before she had the chance to pull herself free or hiss at him Atticus leaned in and said, “All rude and moodiness is gone. I am no more than any other patient that has walked in and out of this place. Nothing strange is going on, nothing strange happened, everything was very average. You will clean up this mess and create an appointment for me. My name is Atticus Klahie, and I am scheduled to meet with Doctor Cullen a quarter after one this after noon. The date for my appointment is August 28th and the year is 2003.” Releasing her arm Atticus watched for a second as dull blue lit up and she smiled up at him. 

“The doctor is here to see you. Please follow him into the back, and please be careful where you step. I wouldn’t want you to get a shard of glass in one of your shoes.” Then, she did as he had suggested. 

Ignoring the sickening curl his gut was doing Atticus glanced about the room. He had acted without much thought and consideration to his surroundings. He was lucky the only individuals in the waiting room were just the three of them. Fighting to ignore the growing guilt Atticus whipped at the tingling warmth pulsating through his nose. When he pulled his hand away a trail of blood followed. It was the cost of messing with her mind, and from the amount of blood leaking from his face Atticus could tell that the magic had been close to rebounding and doing worse damage. How he had managed to pull it off was a mystery to him. One Atticus didn’t want to spend too much time picking at.

“She’ll be fine.” Atticus wasn’t sure who he was reassuring, but as he walked passed the pale doctor he kept his eyes on the door on the other side of the room. “Let’s talk before I lose control again.”


	12. Chapter 12

_Even now, as broken as you may feel, you are still so strong. There’s something to be said for how you hold yourself together and keep moving, even though you feel like shattering. Don’t stop. This is your healing. It doesn’t have to be pretty or grateful. You just have to keep going._

**-** by **Maxwell Diawuoh** -

* * *

Carlisle didn’t know what to make of the strange state the mage had fixed himself into, or how to handle the disturbia he felt after witnessing the boy manipulate Abigail. Was that even the right word to use for what the mage had done? Carlisle had never seen anything like it, and if he had been human the hairs on his body would have surely stood up. One thing was for certain though, Kane Klahie’s child was not what Carlisle expected him to be.

Cold hands tilted the mage’s chin ever so gently upward as Carlisle eyed the bruises blooming beneath his skin. The teen’s nose would be tender for a few days but he doubted that the slight blue and purple tinting would be visible to normal eyes. Carlisle had questions, one’s Atticus had barely noticed boiling beneath molten pools of gold, but something was keeping his lips tightly sewn shut. If Atticus hadn’t been so repulsed by what he had done he might have tried to lighten the atmosphere with playful bantering. Though even that might have still been a bit difficult with the pressure building in his skull from the constant babbling of voices, and his own humming.

“How are you feeling?” Carlisle tried once he was satisfied that Atticus’s bloody nose had been handled to the best of his abilities. Mossy green hues shifted about in an anxious flutter as the teen refused to look for more than a handful of seconds in the doctor’s general direction. Carlisle had seen behavior like this before in patience's feeling guilty or embarrassed. Was the mage unhappy with what he had done, or was it because Carlisle had been there to witness it?

“Not peachy. I don’t like hospitals.” Atticus sputtered, reaching a shaking hand to itch his back as aggravation settled into the curves of his faces. “They’re too noisy.” 

Frowning, Carlisle stopped to listen. In all honesty the hospital was rather quiet and peaceful right now. There had been no horrible accidents recently and the long term patients were not numerous. Atticus’s actions and words were diverging. They were tugging in opposite directions. Almost like his brain was narrating through a bundle of different ideas. It had Carlisle worrying about the teen’s mental stability. 

“May I ask what happened to your back?” Instead of answering Carlisle watched as Atticus sluggishly began to tug off his coat and shirt.

“See for yourself.” And, he did as he removed bandage after bandage. Atticus kept his gaze down the entire time cold fingers worked across the tender and split flesh of his back. He felt like a horrible person for not protecting his little puppets, and shameful that the cracks running through the birdies were because Atticus had forcefully broken their special bonds in the most outrageous of ways. The ripple of shivers that coated his sweating body at the memory of the pain had his heart wrenching.

“Would these have anything to do with the unusual crows found in the forest?” Carlisle's hands never left the markings on Atticus's back. Alice had done her best to explain the images she had seen, but her description and the mental image it created was nothing compared to seeing the real work of art. Carlisle wanted to ask Atticus when he had gotten the ink infused into his flesh, but as he studied the lines the more he began to see it as something like a birthmark that had grown with him over the years of his life. The texture, the visual graining, was not that of a traditional tattoo but an actually natural marking upon the body.

“Those were my puppets, and I am not happy with how they were butchered.” Atticus corrects. Those little crows had been his babies. He had captured, killed, and taken them apart only to reassemble them back together. They were special to him, and now they were back to being just an average corpse littering the forest ground.

“Not the reason I’m here.” Atticus hissed as an anti-disinfectant pad was pressed against one of the cuts on his back. Fingers instinctively encircled around the curve of the metal table beneath the removable medical bed. That had hurt. “Not that or this.” He clarified, between chattering teeth.

Atticus had not come for a check-up, or to discuss what the immortal brats had done to his little creations. He was here because he needed to talk about Nichole and her pendant. The sting of the disinfectant being dabbed against his wounds helped in reinforcing what needed to be said, and in snapping Atticus out of whatever stupor he had fallen into.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He began twisting to face the doctor. “I want to do a trial test to see if the pendant is working as it should.”

“I thought it would take a few more days for the magic to settle.” Carlisle inquired with a raised eyebrow before gently returning to the scabby wounds on the mage’s back. “Why haven’t you healed your own wounds?”

“I don’t have what is needed.” Atticus replied, as he resisted the urge to shiver and shrink away from the cold hands now applying pristine white bandages to his pulsating back. He hadn't really thought about mixing something together that would help with the splits on his back. It wasn’t like Atticus had the ingredients for healing goo, and it wasn’t like a trip to the local grocery store would supply him with those types of ingredients. Atticus could though make a pit stop and pick up something that would alleviate him of the discomfort though, or better yet maybe if Atticus asked nicely the doc would prescribe him something fun.

Not dwelling long on the idea Atticus abruptly stood up from the little table. He wasn’t sure if Doctor Cullen was finished treating him but Atticus was done with the man’s cold hands.

“It’s almost finished, I think.” Snatching his shirt and tugging it over his head Atticus then went digging for the rings sitting in the pockets of his coat. Only to be distracted by his beloved beanie. “I won’t know for certain until the esse surrounding it returns to normal.”

Carlisle watched with furrowed brows. He had not been done bandaging the mage’s back, but for now he’d let it slide since the wounds looked to have been well cared for before Carlisle had gotten his hands on them. There was no sign of infection and the bandages that he had removed looked to have just been put on yesterday.

“I should be off by six tomorrow night, eight at the latest if paperwork holds me up. After my shift should I come by the cottage?” His mind reeled as he spoke. Magic was an interesting subject that Carlisle was interested in learning more of, but from what he could remember it was a practice about equivalent exchange and understanding the principles of the elements wasn’t it? 

“No. That won’t do.” Atticus cut in rapidly with his head shaking back and forth, but his mossy orbs focused on his rings. “We’ll come to you. It will be good for her to get out.”

If Carlisle hadn’t been what he was he would have missed the boy mumbling under his breath again. It was unclear to him what the mage was referring to but that didn’t stop Carlisle from wondering who was being too loud. Whatever it was that the teen was hearing though had him on edge. His hands were shaking as he fiddled with bulky rings, it was causing his heart to beat erratically, and his body to break out in a cold sweat. All of it was a worrying sight, and one that had Carlisle thinking about possible mental disabilities…. That or Atticus had a gift.

 _‘Can you hear me, Mr. Klahie?’_ Carlisle thought as he kept his attention solely on the mage. It was a passing thought but what if what the teen was hearing were the thoughts of those in the hospital? Though when no reaction came from the dark haired teen Carlisle dismissed the idea. 

“Will Miss Dante be attending Forks if the pendent works?”

“Hopefully. Father believes it will do her well…” Chuckling nervously Atticus shifted from looking at the white cabinets to the steel sink and then to a poster about HPV. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the sexual disease. There were reasons why Atticus was still a virgin. “I’m aiming for Monday.” Atticus was aiming for Nichole to go to school by Monday. He was not zeroing in on getting herpes by then… was it odd that he felt the need to clarify that? 

Huffing, and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, Atticus began to hum a nameless tune. It usually helped to calm his nerves when the dead began pressing on to many of his nerves and right now they were being really loud.

“Why were yours missing today?”

“We were unsure if Miss Dante would be there.” Carlisle was quite surprised by the boy's sudden humming of La Bamba. Though it had taken him a few seconds to recognize the strange and unique twist the mage had put on the 1958 song. “We were worried something might happen if she crossed paths with one of us. So, it was decided that they would stay away till we see how her pendent works to hide her scent.” His lips twitched up as the humming switched to something Carlisle was sure he had heard Edward listening to a few nights prior. Was the teen even aware he was humming them? “That and it was too sunny today.”

“Sunny? What’s wrong with the sun? It won’t burn you, I know that, so why hide from it?” The humming halter as Atticus fixed a look on the Cullen. A look that spelt out to the man to explain.

“The answer to that is best seen in person. It’s a bit of an oddity what happens when strong rays of light hit our bodies.” He trailed off with a chuckle, a hint of humor evident. They sparkled, and as weird as it was to say in his head Carlisle was in no hurry to announce it out loud. Of his species many abilities that contributed towards making them the apex hunter sparkling in the light of day was one he didn’t really understand. 

“Try me.” Is what Atticus wanted to tell the vampire but before he could Carlisle swiftly, and rather too smoothly, stepped around the room and began cleaning up the mess he had made. Between the voices babbling in his head and the twitch his left leg had taken to doing Atticus promptly forgot about his curiosity. That and Carlisle was pushing their conversation back towards the lady of many mysteries.

“For your test, will we be meeting like this again? Should I make an appointment for her?” 

“No.” Atticus spat. The attitude and the mannerism he had been conducting himself in flipped without a warning. Suddenly, everything the mage was saying sounded painful and on the edge of defensive to Carlisle. 

“I would much rather not have to come back in and go through _this_ again.” He hissed, grasping at the locks beneath his beanie. A wild look spiraled as his orbs darted to different corners of the room. “There are just too many of them here, but that’s how it always is in hospitals. Everything is too unsteady and always changing. It’s why I hate hospitals.” Hands moved down to his ears where they clasped over the cartilage and pressed hard. “There is too much noise. I want them to shut up, but I know it won’t work.”

The docs fiery molten hues showed the kind of gentle concern Atticus had grown up seeing. All that was missing was the sympathy mixed in, and it made his teeth grind in annoyance. How dare he look down on him. How dare he suspect himself to be in a better position. Just because Atticus could hear and speak with the dead did not mean the doc was not affected by those across the veil. Sinking to his knees Atticus peered up at the Cullen, with hands still clasped to the side of his head, and wondered what the vampire's reaction would be if he told him about the souls he could hear. Just those stuck to the blonde, and not the others.

Atticus wouldn’t dare say anything about the words being said within the walls of his mind. It would bring dishonor to all the ancestral mediums that have come before him. That and if his father ever got word of such verbal actions Atticus’s bottom would be as red as a beating heart. 

“Demanding, demanding, demanding. They are so demanding. One moment they are there in the front. Then, the next they are in the background and I can almost ignore them as they bicker along the edges. I honestly can’t say which I prefer, but both do make my head spin.” In circles till his belly turned itself inside out and his head forced black dots to dance in his vision. 

Atticus hadn’t taken his hands away from the sides of his head, nor had he peeled his eyes away from the smooth talking blonde doctor. The man looked like he was walking on eggshells around him, not sure what to do or how to act. Doctor Cullen looked to want to ask Atticus how he was doing or if he was alright but his mouth was being held tightly shut. Instead to Atticus’s surprise, and slight delight, the immortal came close and kneeled down beside him. 

“Would you care to explain? I can’t help if you don’t tell me more.”

Help? Atticus was sorry to break the doctors bubble but there was nothing he could do to help. Being a level one ancestral medium was not curable. Atticus’s current behavior was the outcome of being blessed by the Triple Goddesses. One can’t expect great power without some sort of retaliation could they? Everything has a price. Being able to not only hear but speak with souls of both magicians and regular mortals freely, no rituals involved, came at the cost of Atticus’s own sanity -- and at the worst his life.

“I’m sensitive to the dead.”

“The dead?” Carlisle didn’t miss a beat, but Atticus was sure by the horrified look on the light haired man’s face that he hadn’t expected for him to say that.

“Yes, that is what I said isn’t it? They make me act out when they get too loud, or aggressive. Sometimes I lose control.” His voice broke and by the end he spoke no louder than a mere whisper. Atticus regretted what he had done to the receptionist. He hadn’t thought and had just acted. He had done a dark art that was so below okay that it made blood magic look like rainbows and sprinkles. 

“Is that what happened with Miss Abigail?” Carlisle knew he had hit the nail on the head when the teen shrunk in on himself even more, and refused to look anywhere but the floor below them. It had unnerved Carlisle when he had seen Atticus manipulate the women with his words alone, but hearing that he had done it basically unintentionally was terrifying. Atticus had looked to have enjoyed doing it in that moment, but now as Carlisle stared down at the shivering and trembling boy the heart that no longer pumped ached. Carlisle had seen the behavior Atticus was showing in each of his precious family members before. After they had done something they knew was wrong but had no control over. Jasper’s most recent actions came to his mind first. As did the personal beating the male was currently still giving himself. 

“Yes.” Finally came Atticus’s answer. It dragged Carlisle back to the present and away from his son still miles away. “The dead…. They can be a rather bad influence.” 

Situations like this were one’s Carlisle disliked the most. He wished nothing more than to be able to wave his hand and it would take away all the suffering and pain of the individual before him. Reality wasn’t like that though. It never made things simple or easy or fair. Carlisle knew he was no hero, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to become like one. Being able to work as a doctor allowed him to offer his care and patience. It let him help and on the best of days save lives. 

“Hey, doc?”

“Yes, Mr. Klahie.”

“Why don't we exchange numbers. That way if the pendant finishes settling by tomorrow we can meet. I’ll text you and you can text me when the right time is to meet outside the hospital.” Atticus paused, briefly, his hands still clasped to the sides of his head and for once his mossy green orbs closed. To Carlisle it looked like the boy was trying to block out the world, and now that he knew he was sensitive to the dead Carlisle could only imagine what that must be like. What he could hear that others couldn’t. 

“We can meet outside right? I rather not come back inside if at all possible. It’s just too noisy.”

It wasn’t like Carlisle would say no to the boy, though he had to wonder why the mage would risk coming into the hospital if he knew something like this might occur. Couldn’t he have just waited for him to finish up at work? Or, asked his father for his number? Whatever the reason Carlisle knew that if something ever happened to the teen in the future and he needed medical assistance it would be the safety for the mage not to come into the hospital. 

* * *

By the time Atticus had finally left the hospital public parking lot it was well past five o’clock, nearly six. The day had been long and with a migraine blooming behind his bloodshot eyes Atticus had found the drive back to Nichole’s home daunting. The clouds that had built and consumed Forks and the surrounding area around the town in a fog of misty rain hadn’t helped matters either. Though as the rental car crawled its way up the graveled road that led to the cottage Atticus began to notice the effects of Nichole’s curse on him. The onslaught of voices from the hospital had left those he encountered on the way home like little ticking bombs about to make him explode into a fit of pathetic whimpering sobs. Now though as they were pushed away one by one the pressure that had built behind his ears finally begun to lessen.

Atticus hadn’t expected upon his return to spot Nichole outside, in this hideous weather, and near the pen where he had spotted two darling looking donkeys. Creatures he had not paid his respects to because Atticus had yet to learn their names. A sad excuse for they were one of the many sacred creatures blessed by the Goddesses. The devil cat, who went by the name Earl, held not a candle to these gentle, smart, and beautiful giants.

“You seem fine.” Nichole professed in a strange tone.

“What?” It had his brows narrowing in bewilderment. Atticus knew it illogical to wonder but had she been worried about him? Had she cared how his day had gone? The bit of hope had him feeling happier and better, especially after what happened at the hospital.

“Today was the first day. I was going to come but you rushed out before I could say anything, and then there was the note on the front door.” A note that had only a large smiley face on it and four words that read, _‘Be back after school!’._

“What changed? Not that I’m going to be complaining, but you were so dead set on not going.” There had been screaming matches over the topic. Ones that had wound up the natural esse of her home. “When father had left he had put me in charge of persuading you into going. I was doing everything to avoid that conversation, particularly after the way the two of you had fought, but I knew I couldn’t steer clear of it forever. Things just happened to get out of hand… and then school was here and your pendent had maybe a day left before it finished settling and I still hadn’t tried to convince you.” He confided, and mentally noted that he really needed to call his father before the night got too late. Atticus had ignored too many of his old man's calls as it already was. It was a conversation he wasn’t looking forward to having, but at least Atticus would have some good news to give.

“Your attack.” She replied, a moment too late for politeness. Both had been locked in their own thoughts and neither were bothered by the silence that had spanned over a series of long seconds. “I had forgotten how sensitive you can get when the dead become too grueling and agitated. I know the danger your father has placed you in by leaving you here. Something I don’t understand and don’t appreciate, but if I can I’d like to keep you from dying. You are good, Atticus. A trait I don’t see often in this world anymore.” Nichole conceded, pausing as she reached out and ran her fingers over a gray muzzle. “I contemplated showing up anyway, despite that note of yours. I was worried.”

There had been worry. She had worried about him. Nichole hadn’t wanted him to suffer through another possible attack just because there were apex hunters in a place they had no right being. With her attention placed on Pickles Nichole hadn’t seen the first few tears slip from burning eyes.

“Thank you.” He whispered in a whimper as the tears burst forth like water from a dam. The mist surrounding them did little to help conceal the moisture running down his face, or the hysterical sobs racketing his body. Repeating himself to her quietly Atticus sunk down to rest on the ground. It felt good to cry and let it all out. He had always been an emotional one. Someone to wear his heart on his sleeve. Not only that but Atticus had missed the effect she had on the dead. The near blissful silence and clear head only she could offer him.

It felt like long minutes passed before the sobbing subsided enough for his hoarse voice to break through in a mutilated and choppy laugh. One that had Nichole jerking where she stood stiffly. She hadn’t known how to respond to his sudden break down. Had he wanted, or expected, her to lean down and give him a comforting hug? A pat on the back? Say kind reassuring words? Nichole’s gaze shifted from Pickles to the mage leaning against the fencing. Was he still expecting her to do something? 

“Do you know how stressed I’ve been all day? First I was worried about losing control, because there supposedly were going to be Cullens attending Forks High School. Then, there was the issue father left me with. _You._ How in the yellow bellied butter nutters was I going to convince you that going to high school is what you really want to do? After all, who wants to be in the center of hormones, drama, and gossip?” Atticus liked that. He liked adventure and drama and gossip. Hormones not so much because it made his brain go to nasty places.

Silently Nichole cursed Kane, and wondered once more what he had been thinking leaving his child here with her in Forks. She was a mess. A broken mess that did not want to be tampered and toyed with. She was not here for him to fix. Yet, that was what it felt Kane was trying to do and at the expense of Atticus.

“Can I know their names?” He asked her with a tilt of the head towards the two towering jennies. Nichole nodded yes as she watched him rub his eyes, her gaze flickering to the beauty mark under his left eye.

“The gray one is Pickles, and the darker one is Spitfire.” To Atticus those names were very fitting, and they had him smiling a toothy and lopsided smile. Then, without much of a warning he sprung into the meeting he had with Doctor Cullen at the hospital. Though he had opted for leaving out what he had done to the receptionist and how the dead had forced Atticus to crouch and curl into himself with his hands clasped over his ears. He most certainly wasn’t going to tell her about that. He saw no reason in making her worry more.

Though it had him wondering with a side glance if she felt the same strange pull that he did. Quickly looking away he frowned. Of course she didn’t. Atticus was just over imaginative and slightly mentally unstable. What he felt was -- had to be -- something his mind was constantly making up.

“I have three days then.” Nichole made the statement into a question as she leaned further into the fence to place her forehead against the soft flat surface of Pickles face. The display of affection lasted three seconds max before the jenny bobbed her large head up and down. She was clearly still searching for the treats Nichole no longer had. 

“Yep, and after that you Miss Nicky will have to face the horrors of high school!” Atticus teased, a tight smile making his cheeks ache. He watched in slight smothering shock as Nichole’s own lips tugged up.

“I’ll come but I will not socialize.”

Atticus didn’t push it past that. This was one big step for Nichole. One slow and drawn out step but it was nonetheless a step in the direction of the high school and his bottom not getting roasted by his father.

“Oh, here!” Atticus flopped about on the ground as he dug into his pants back pocket. Hoping the whole time that his ignorance to remember her schedule and his had not been ruined by the wet ground below. He had completely forgotten till then that he had gotten her list of sophomore classes from the rude secretary. Taking the rumpled and slightly damp colorful paper from Atticus she unfolded it with a displeased frown.

At the top of the page in bold writing it read, “ _ **Forks High School Sophomore Schedule**_ ”, and in the silence of her own head Nichole questioned why Kane had put her elective down as creative writing. 

“Thanks… I guess.” She begrudgingly retorted before moving to return to the cottage. Atticus didn’t move from the ground as she retreated with not just her schedule but his as well, and their one map of the high school campus. He just continued to sit and lounge against the fence as he emptily stared into the forest surrounding him. If he hadn’t felt so drained Atticus might have entertained the idea of taking an adventure out into the woods. Seeing what it had to offer. There had to be a few natural created trails he could travel. He was no earth mage and his area of expertise was in the dark arts, but that didn’t mean he didn't feel connected to the green world. If he slipped off his shoes and tore the socks off his feet Atticus could let himself become lost to the peace he felt in the ancient wood, but he also felt that if he slipped over the ledge today he would be consumed by darker thoughts.

Today a lot of his worries had been lifted from his shoulders, and it felt great to breath again, but somehow it also felt like another whispering stress had popped in and replaced the worries he had finally relieved himself of. Atticus feared that if he wondered and let himself fade into the ease of the woodland he’d be consumed by those still weighing him down and his ever so growing homesickness.

* * *

The next morning, Atticus woke to an empty house. There had been an encounter with a devil but Atticus had been too preoccupied by the fact he had nearly overslept to worry about any stink eyes the cat had been sending him, or the hisses when Atticus stepped to close. He only got a glimpse of Nichole when he was peeling out. If he didn’t speed then the first bell would be ringing, and Atticus was not going to let that happen on the second day. If praying hard and deep to the Goddesses is what it would take then that is what Atticus would do. He did not want to get pulled over just because he was going fifty over the speed limit to get to his classes. Being late on the second day would not be acceptable, extremely so with a teacher like Mr. Varner.

A downpour of rain did little to stir Atticus into a bad mood as he popped out of the rental vehicle, this time with a bag slung over his shoulder. Something he had forgotten to grab yesterday. His mind had been so jumbled. The morning bettered even more when a familiar truck pulled in with just as much steam rolling off its tires, and out popped an equally as familiar redhead. There had been a question tossed out from Adam Redford about Atticus’s missing umbrella but the mage had waved it off and instead he bid a good morning to the ginger before shooting off for calculus with Mr. Varner. Who, may Atticus add, did comment on him barely arriving before the second bell rang.

Health was a bore, as Atticus had anticipated, but Miss Grisson was such a sweetheart that he hadn’t minded one bit. Then, while crossing to another building with the map in hand his path was interrupted by the same teen who had come racing in late. Adam had wasted no time in plucking the map from Atticus’s hands with a sly grin and a teasing comment. Evidently with his own personal guide Atticus would need no such things as maps, though the cost as he’d find out would be his seat being picked out by the fiery ginger. Following came Latin and as Atticus had been told Adam indeed did have the advanced online language with him in room A-23. If there was one subject Atticus had full confidence in it was his knowledge of Latin. It was one of the languages many of his books back home were written in. If you wanted to learn more complicated spells you had to learn new languages. It was one of the ways his coven pushed youngsters to stretch their minds and learn abilities that would actually help shape their futures. Speaking Latin was like drinking water for Atticus, or breathing air. He still had a long way to learn to perfect the unique way of speech but compared to many in the advanced class… let’s just say Atticus saw an easy A in his future here.

When lunch finally rolled around Atticus didn’t loiter about his locker like he had done the day before. Instead he was led by Adam to the cafeteria, where Xander and two other boys were waiting for them. The forty five minutes sped by fast, as did the conversation about a freshman cutie Xander had a crush on. The sophomore had attempted to point her out to him, but in the crowd Atticus hadn’t been able to spot the brunette being spoken so highly of. Without mercy all romantic thoughts were crushed pretty quickly by Adam once Xander spoke the girls name. Jessica Stanely, or rather the Stanely family was one Adam was not a fan of if his words of referral were anything to go off of. 

“Back stabbing bitches. That’s what they all are.” Adam quickly added, as he jabbed at the cube cut pears. Atticus learned quite a deal about the Stanely family that lunch. Until then he hadn’t seen such discontent and masked grief on his new acquaintances face. Adam had dated her older brother last year and the boy had done nothing but play with Adam's feelings before dumping him a month before shipping himself off to college.

They split after lunch, and the class Atticus was dreading more than calculus was upon him. The hour of gym could no longer be mentally avoided for here it was with Atticus tugging on a uniform Coach Clapp had handed him and twenty-seven other boys. By the end the entirety of Group C, and undoubtedly soon all the students in Forks, knew how unathletic Atticus was. In simple terms for those who couldn’t understand. Atticus sucked at sports. Unless it included magic or strategizing then he stood no chance at winning. The only upside came when they were sent to shower. 

“Oh, thank the goddesses.” Atticus preached, as he strolled right up to a group of teens smoking under an open window. There was no need to bother with showering when the sweet temptation of a smoke was being dangled before him. 

“How much for a roll?”

“None left.”

“I repeat. How much.”

“Twenty.”

Atticus had never flipped out a bill faster in his life, and never had he plucked a half smoked joint from someone so rudely before. Those he now stood with watched as he took a deep inhale. Atticus held it in for as long as he could before blowing out a perfect ring, with the help of his magic, towards the window. HIs lungs trembled in his chest and his eyes watered but the chilling thrill traveling through him helped to wash away the abuse he had just gone through.

A call from the coach echoed through the locker room, and a few of the boys smoking froze, their eyes wide and alert. They had five minutes. A glorious five minutes Atticus would spend smoking the joint he had just bought before he swiftly, and happily might he add, speed his way to his last class of the day.

“Who did your art?” A fellow senior who introduced himself as Liam Morgan inquired as he followed the mage out of the locker room. Atticus hadn't paid much attention to those who he had been smoking with but he thought he recalled seeing the bulky teen slouched on the bench under the window. 

“What?” Atticus stopped momentarily, a hand unintentionally moved to scratch his back. 

“The ink. Who’s your guy? Anyone I might have heard about?” His eyes spoke volumes as they traced the dark curves of a tattoo mostly hidden beneath a navy blue striped shirt. An eerier feeling settled in Atticus’s belly the longer he stayed under Liam’s crooked smile and bloodshot eyes. There was a charm to the boy that undoubtedly would catch the girl’s attention just as easily as the muscular fit shape Liam was in, but Atticus knew almost instantly that something was off. The esse he could feel flowing from the boy was chaotic and aggressive with a dash of a substance that left Atticus’s nose wrinkling.

“For starters it’s a she and I doubt you’d have heard of her. She only works on those from where I’m from.” It wasn’t a lie, not that Atticus had to explain himself to the short tweaking jock. The ink painted permanently onto his body had been done by an arcane wielder from The Order of the Owl no less. He had received it after his first severe possession as a child. The same possession where when he woke the first person to greet him had been Nicky. 

“Just your people then? Is it a religious thing?” 

Atticus supposed that in a way the tree was a religious symbol, but not his birds. Those were his and the only addition he’d been able to have a say in. 

“Yeah, it’s a religious thing.” He hummed as he bid his farewell to Liam. Atticus was in no hurry to get to his last hour of the day and didn’t fight when the bulldog like senior held him up a few minutes longer between buildings. There was no comfort being around Liam but Atticus had no reason to fear the boy. After all, what could a normy do?


	13. Chapter 13

_Softly my thoughts whispered invisible words.  
My mind filled with reflections of you.  
I wanted to find myself and I did when I found you._

\- by **perry poetry** -

* * *

Atticus had tried - _truly he had_ \- to not be late but his feet just hadn’t wanted to move that fast. A walk that should have taken minutes had been stretched into a slow lazy half slouched crawl, and when Atticus finally did arrive he didn’t think twice about walking in and interrupting his Anatomy and Physiology teachers introduction presentation. If Atticus's care barometer hadn’t been hindered by the blunt he had partially smoked his cheeks might have blazed with heat when everyone’s eyes sought him out. 

Atticus though highly doubted he would have felt any sort of embarrassment when his own mossy gaze flittered around the classroom before landing on a figure that was missing the flower crown that had adored his head just yesterday.

“You must be Mr. Klahie. Don’t worry you’re not the only one who got lost getting here today.” Atticus didn’t debunk the self made assumption, not that he would have if he had wanted to. Words that usually came easily to him had rather suddenly become misplaced. Leaving the mage with only the ability to nod his head as he gripped the strap of his bag tighter. 

_Play with me._

Wide eyed and feeling more alert than he had in the last ten minutes Atticus watched who he suspected to be his teacher sauntered up to him with a smile and syllabus in hand. To those in the class it appeared that the newcomer was just standing and staring at the stapled stack of white paper, but for Atticus he felt like he couldn’t move. That if he did the soft and feminine voice caressing the walls of his mind would see him and know he could hear her. 

_I’m bored. Won’t you play with me?_

The energy rolling off her and coating Atticus didn’t feel like that of a possessive or aggressive soul. Quite the opposite. There was a joyful and playful buzz that had him shivering each time she whispered. That wasn’t what bothered Atticus though. It was the raw power thrumming through him from just how close in proximity she was to him. 

Which left him wondering just where she was in the room. If his eyes had been open to the veiled world would she be standing behind or in front of him?

_Please, I want to play. I love the games._

Molars ground as Atticus fought the tremor threatening to shake his body. There was a certain type of high that came from being suddenly washed over with such raw and pure energy. One Atticus wasn’t used to feeling all that often outside of the rituals he conducted with the Supreme or his time spent deep in the wilds of mother nature. Atticus barely even noticed how the other skulking voices faded significantly.

“Mr. Klahie, is everything alright?”

“Y-yes.” Though his voice came across cracked Atticus finally got his body to work. Swallowing the lump in his throat he told himself that he couldn’t play with her. He couldn’t let her sweep him off his feet and into the world she was trapped within. There were too many unseen dangers that could come from such an interaction.

“I don’t assign seats. It’s first come first serve.” Clearly in doubt but not willing to question the teen over something possibly trivial the curly haired man directed a frazzled Atticus to where most of the empty seats were. The mage, still in a bit of a haze, slunk down an aisle and took the first free seat he spotted. 

“Now where did I leave off?” Nixon Newburn, a name obtained from the bold lettering at the top of the syllabus, asked the class before continuing on with his interrupted lecture. Atticus though couldn’t stop his mind from lurching, even when Mr. Newburn had each of the twenty five students in his class stand up and introduce themselves.

Then, when the final bell rang Atticus couldn’t gather up his bag fast enough to escape the plague of energy suffocating him. Even though it wasn’t true Atticus felt like he had never dashed from somewhere so numbly until that moment. By the time he got to the rental car Atticus was vaguely aware of the fact he had just invited Adam and Xander to the local diner for dinner. The same one Atticus planned to visit with Nichole before their inevitable meeting with Doctor Cullen.

* * *

Nichole was not happy. Atticus couldn’t fault the dark skinned teen for her anger with him. Not when he had invited two strangers from school to dine with them while Nichole and him waited for his phone to ding with the signal that Carlisle Cullen was ready to see them. Atticus hadn’t even told Nichole when they would be meeting with the head honcho of the vampire family, or that when he picked her up right after classes his plan was for them to eat out. She had all the right in this world to be annoyed with him. 

He was lucky, more so than Nichole knew Atticus could possibly ever guess. If she hadn’t skipped breakfast and then passed lunch up to catch up on her journal entries she would have just sat out in the car. The pain in her belly and the smell of cooking food had her deciding otherwise, and for the most part Nichole hadn’t regretted her decision. She had actually looked forward to when her order would be placed before her, not that she would ever tell that to Atticus, but when people she didn’t know sat down on the cushioned seats before them that opinion drastically changed.

Her annoyance flared into anger almost instantly, and if the stiffness of the body beside her was of any indicator then Atticus knew just how upset she was with him. A win was a win to Atticus and as uncomfortable as this one was he had managed to get Nichole out of her cottage and into a dinner. Not only that but he had finally been able to deliver a very detailed compliment to a short, sassy, and dark skinned waitress with hair Atticus had loved from the first time he had spotted it through the eyes of his raven. She had blushed madly and smacked him on the shoulder before seating the two teens at a booth.

“So you’re the famous cousin.” A ginger, Adam Redford as she had been introduced to, inquired as he scanned the menu laid out before him. Adam already knew what he was going to order. He liked repetition and disliked ordering things he hadn’t sampled before. 

Nichole remained silent as she watched the waitresses bustle back and forth from the kitchen to their assigned tables. Her lack of response had both boys raising their eyebrows at Atticus.

“She’s just tired…. you know… girl stuff?” The high points of his cheekbones turned cherry red as Atticus did everything he could not to make eye contact. 

“I’m Xander. A sophomore like you.” Though out of the three boys only Xander showed no signs of being effected by Nichole’s normal moody and disrespectful attitude towards all things living. “What classes are you in? Maybe, we have a few of the same hours together.” 

Atticus so badly wanted to tell the teen that he stood no chances of obtaining a romantic relationship. It made Atticus wonder if Xander had gone blind to the way Nichole was so avidly ignoring him, or if the teen thought the response was normal when flirting.

“There will never be a girl that is going to look twice at you if they hear you get twitchy like a horny rabbit every time a nice ass steps past.” The ginger said stiffly as he elbowed a doe-eyed Xander in the side. It was a rude remark that had Xander's face turning beet red, and Atticus stifling a chuckle with his hand as a loose grin broke out over his face. 

Unforeseen by all, a hollowed tone light and airy came. “I do have a nice ass.”

Aghast, Atticus gaped. Nichole’s comment wasn’t nearly as soft or friendly as Adam’s jab had been. It quickly drew the narrowed dark gaze of a ginger who had been mentally undressing the freckled man behind the front desk.

“Oh, she finally speaks!” Abruptly, Adam retaliated. A mixture of something great overwhelmed his poised features and the ginger glowered. Nichole didn’t back down and met his muddy gaze with her pale grey orbs. A challenge had been issued and the tension between the two could have easily gotten a knife snapped in half. 

_‘Crudding blumpkisses…’_ Atticus shrunk deeper into his cushioned seat. This was going bad, and he had no clue where it was going to end. He was confident that if the bomb hidden beneath the hostility flared and exploded things wouldn’t just be ending in a heated argument with colorful words but with one of them getting loaded into the back of an ambulance. 

Shifting uneasily in his seat Atticus tried to think of a way to lighten the mood, and lift the knee deep silence Nichole and Adam had brought down to hover over the group. He considered a joke but the air was too brittle and Atticus too terrified of what would follow if he tried to defuse the situation by confronting the pair. 

“Why don’t we-” 

“Foods here!” Atticus exclaimed louder than necessary. He had no want to say anything but when Xander began to reach to put a hand on Nichole’s arm he knew he had to intervene before the poor boy lost the appendage. The spark that had been glowing brightly didn’t wane until the waitress and waiter carrying platters of food were upon them.

“Alright, who ordered the chief crispy chicken salad and the Hawaiian hamburger with onion rings?” It was only after a block with freckles sprayed across his face spoke that the snarl on Nichole’s face relaxed and instead she drew to her a smile to mirror the server who had her burger. 

“And, I’ve got the adult mac and cheese and the grid wrap with no mayo.” The waitresses smile on the other hand waned as her blue eyes darted about the table. She looked uncomfortable and Atticus just wanted to tell her that it was even more so in his current station. Instead he took the grid wrap with a thank you and asked for his cup to be refilled. 

With a proper distraction now diverting each of their attentions Atticus ask Adam what he knew about a kid in their year named Liam Morgan. Xander chipped in here and there adding comments about the jock and how he had seen him break his leg last year in the middle of the basketball season. As for Nichole she sat in silence eating her dinner. Her own mind occupied with blurred images of a face she couldn’t quite recall. Her journals pages lately had been littered in half finished sketches of a person she didn’t know. Someone who had attacked her and attempted to kill her. 

Unconsciously a hand drifted to where the scar laid hidden beneath her long sleeved shirt. The good doctor had attempted to change the grueling contours so they didn’t represent what looked like a human bite . He had succeeded, Nichole thought a few evenings back when she had been examining the silvery scar. If one didn’t look too hard they could easily displace the blame on a wild animal.

Over an hour passed like this, with the three boys chatting and Nichole sitting in her own self created silence. Xander had tried a handful of times to start a conversation but it had only earned him pinched looks, short retorts, and more often than not the silent treatment. 

Then, at 5:26 exactly Atticus’s phone rang out with a text from Carlisle Cullen. As soon as Atticus notified Nichole she abruptly stood and dismissed herself. Saying she’d be waiting in the car for him before swiping the keys. With the ring of the bell signaling her departure Atticus cleared his throat and apologies to the two teens for her behavior.

“It’s fine. I’m sure she’s not a fuss pot all the time.” Adam gave an irritated huff as he stood, wallet in hand, but Atticus went rigid. Unexpectedly he laughed, and knew that despite the annoyance and bit of anger still biting in the gingers muddy gaze that the teen didn’t outright hate Nichole.

Wiping the tears from the corner of his eyes Atticus finally said, “She won’t thank you for indulging her fuss-pot-ism so I’ll have to in her stead.” 

A smile cracked across his face as Atticus glanced out the large window and towards where he had parked the rental car. Despite Nichole having taken the keys she wasn’t sitting in the passenger seat like he would have expected. Instead she was leaning against the vehicle and looking up at the cloudy sky. Unknown to any Nichole was assessing the shades of blue above. 

“Did your appointment go bad? Is your back ok?” Xander questioned.

“I’m fine, healing rather well I was told, but no this appointment is for Nichole. She was in the same accident I was, and it left her with a bit of a health issue that the docs are watching closely.” It hadn’t occurred to Atticus to put a name to their accident till Adam inquired about it. He never was a good liar, always forgetting some of the smaller details and fidgeting too much. It was why Atticus hesitated to answer. Why he took so long that Adam added that he didn’t need to tell them if he didn’t want to. Appreciating the choice Atticus nodded his and let the conversation take a steep drop off a cliff.

It wouldn’t be till they went to pay for their bills would they discover that Nichole had already covered them. An apology for how she had acted Atticus wondered as he slipped his own wallet back into the pocket of his jeans

* * *

Nichole glanced out the window and towards the building that was Forks hospital. They were fifteen minutes earlier than what the good doctor had told Atticus he would be off from work. It had her wondering how fast he had sped through his paperwork, or if today had just been slow. 

To her left Atticus muttered to himself under his breath yet again. He had told her multiple times already how strange it felt to not have the dead pressing down on him. To not hear their voices babbling and screaming till it felt like the drums in his ears were going to pop. Nichole hadn’t known that hospitals affected him like they did, but it made sense. There was just as much death wrapped up in places like this as there was life. Still she could see that just being near had him jumpy and fidgeting worse than he had back in the diner.

It was something they both seemed to have in common in that moment. Nichole felt just as at unease as he did, but not over the dead hanging about. There was a shake to her hands that she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she clenched them into fists. No matter how she acted or responded there was no fighting her natural human instincts to the knowledge that she was about to face a powerful predator. Nichole knew damn well that the cold sweat coating her body and the uncontrollable tremble to her hands was because of the trauma she had gone through. Her hormones of the HPA axis were creating an unnecessary level of fear and anxiety, and it was annoying her. If she could have persuaded her brain she would have told it to stop responding to what was not going to be a threatening event.

**_Ding_ **

“He’s on his way out.” Atticus flashed the message to Nichole but before she could actually read it the mage had it pointed back to his own face. His fingers flying over keys as he responded. 

Then, just as Atticus had said a blonde man in a white coat exited the building and began walking towards the car the two of them were sitting in. Filing out of the vehicle Nichole remained silent as hello’s were exchanged. Pale hues fluttered about as she watched the doctor's expression change as the two talked about the pendent hanging around her neck. Atticus explained to the immortal man how the pendant worked, just as his father had done but in a much shorter way. 

“So… how is it? Seems hardly like the same person right?” 

“It’s amazing.” Carlisle conceded as he sniffed the air once more. He couldn’t quite believe how there was no trace of the tantalizing heated scent that once had called to him and his family. It was just as Atticus’s father had said it would be. If Carlisle was to put Nichole in a crowd of humans she wouldn’t have stood out, at least not in the way she had in the beginning. 

“It’s like you flipped a switch and turned off the song her blood was singing.” Like they had stopped Nichole from being a blood singer. Carlisle was truly entranced by what the magic of two mages had managed to create and complete. As remarkable as the feat was, Carlisle had to take into consideration the control over his own blood lust that he had managed to create and perfect over hundreds of years. Without having Nichole face his family he wouldn’t be able to be sure that her pendent worked as well on them as it had on him. His family needed to come before anything else, and as much as many of them wanted to stay and not move again Carlisle needed to know that what happened wouldn’t happen again. 

Nichole had barely managed to escape turning, and from what he had learned it was a miracle she hadn’t died because of her curse. It seemed big events like Jasper losing control and falling into his blood lust usually led to a premature death. Carlisle wanted to protect both his family and the life of the human. 

Taking a long pause before he spoke Carlisle locked eyes with Nichole. He didn’t miss the way the hairs on her arms prickled and raised, or the way the muscles beneath dark skin tensed and coiled. She was on edge, scared he’d almost say, and if Carlisle’s heart actually had worked it would have clenched. She was so strong, a warrior and fighter, but she was not young nor did her eyes shine with the innocence the mage’s did. It pained him to know that she was fated to continue to die repeatedly in a cycle that none had figured out how to break.

“The pendent is nothing I have ever encountered before, but I worry about how well it will work when Jasper is around.” Golden orbs watched as her fingers fiddled with the fabric covering the scar. She was off in a world of her making, or reliving what she could remember from that day his family had entered her life. Emotions he couldn’t quite decipher flickered in her eyes, but when she came back the dull look that Carlisle had grown accustomed to seeing returned. It worried him greatly. The way she pulled the mask over herself. It was the same action he had seen too many times done by each of his family members over their years together when things went wrong and someone precious to them got hurt. “He drank from you Nichole. You have a pull over him that surpasses that of which falls on the rest of us, and I fear that your pendent won’t be enough the next time something happens. If we are to stay I have to be certain that nothing horrible will fall upon you.”

“Why don’t we do another test then.” Atticus suggests, gaining the attention of the two. Carlisle had been so taken in by the power of the pendant and the chaos that was surrounding his family and Nichole that he hadn’t noticed a certain level of sanity having returned to the mage since the last time he had seen the boy. It made Carlisle wonder if being inside the hospital was that drastic of a change compared to being right outside. Did his connection to the dead work differently depending on where he stood? 

“If we do a test like this again using the one who bit Nicky as a dummy we can see how well the pendent works. If it will still coat her scent like it is supposed to. The whole procedure will be well prepared for as well. How could it not be if we pre-plan it and make sure the environment the experiment is held in is under our control. If an accident tries to occur there will be plenty of able bodies to prevent negative possible endings, and if things work out like I’m sure they will everyone will be fine. No blood, no mess, no life loss.” The look of uncertainty he had, and still was receiving, had Atticus rambling. Arms outstretched and moving in an animated way with each sentence that passed his upturned lips.

“I’m fine with it.” Nichole finally speaks, her voice soft and low, but easily heard by the mage at her side and the vampire. The only question now was when and where do they do it? Nichole’s cottage? The Cullen home? As if sensing the incoming question Nichole opened her mouth to speak again. She saw no need in prolonging the inevitable. The sooner they could see if the pendent worked the sooner Nichole could focus on calming her mind and convincing herself that she had no reason to act so flighty. If the pendant stopped her blood from singing, as the good doctor had put during the first meeting Kane had dragged her along to, then the Cullen family would stay. If the pendant didn’t stop the scent and tantalizing drug like state then the Cullen family would leave. Either way Nichole hoped that once this was over she wouldn’t have to deal with the vampire coven anymore. She could return to spending her time in solitude and ignoring anyone who looked to form any sort of connection with her.

“Now.” She stated. “Let’s do it now.”

Carlisle looked a bit taken back, but didn’t shoot the proposition down.

“Would my home be alright?” Nichole nodded and a second later Carlisle was making a few calls. He would need to explain the plan to his family and have them prepare. While most had opted to stay within the walls of their home two of his precious family were still somewhere deep within Goat Rock Wilderness. They would have to be tracked down if Alice didn’t get a vision or he couldn’t reach them over the phone. 

When he finally pocketed his phone and turned to face the two mortals once more he found them doing their own things. What caught his attention though was what was coming out of the mage’s mouth.

“Do you think a horse the size of a cat would be more work to take care of, or would a cat the size of a mouse be more trouble?” If the lost look being casted from Nichole to Atticus was any indicator Carlisle would say it was safe to assume that the curly haired mortal didn’t know how to respond to the strange question. She didn't give much time to comprehend an answer when the mage noticed that Carlisle was no longer being held up by his phone.

“Are we good? If so I’ll be following you since I have no clue where you live.” It was a lie. One Atticus knew the vampire would be able to pick out because of the crow the mage once had hovering over their home. One of the two the doctor’s sons had found and mutilated. The only truth to his words was that if left to his own devices Atticus would have likely ended up wondering more than driving directly to their destination. 

“Oh, and before you play lead car I need to make a stop at the grocery store. I was gonna do it after dinner but you texted me earlier than I expected.”

* * *

‘ _Edward_ ,’ Alice’s silent call shrouded in unintentional hesitation had his attention, but he didn’t turn to face her. His gaze stayed strictly aimed on the empty driveway. The two vehicles traveling in their home’s direction were still quite a few miles away. _‘How is he?’_

A frown, small and barely noticeable, set against pale lips. The secret language the two of them had created and perfected over the years had come in useful many times, just as it was now as Edward responded to Alice’s inquiry. Jasper’s mind was reeling between his confusion, yet displaced curiosity, and the darker more sinister aptitude that had his throat burning and the muscles beneath pale skin coiling. A darker voice in the back of his mind was roaring with the need to hunt, take, claim, and kill. If Edward would have allowed his body to be enticed to shiver it would have from the sheer volume of raw bloody images that were constantly pledging the ex-soldier's mind. 

What he was seeing as the thoughts rolled into his mind had Edward’s stomach twisting in disgust. 

_‘Stay out if it disturbs you.’_ A growl, low and meant only as a warning, had all cold bodies tensing and gazes shifting to where Jasper sat bent over. His dark eyes encircled in even darker bags trained themselves intensively on Edward. Challenging the younger vampire to test him, try his thin patients. Now was not the time to try and scold Jasper for the thoughts he was having and the fantasies he was struggling not to play through. 

“Not helping Rose.” Edward instead argued at the thoughts being batted around in Rosalie’s own head. The blonde didn’t take his tone well and shot out from the arms that had been holding her. Golden eyes narrowed and her lips curled back to show a perfect set of teeth before she hissed.

“It’s what all of us are thinking.” Her words filled with malice as she strode closer. “We should have just let Jasper kill her, or Carlisle should have just let her turn. Then, maybe we wouldn’t have to worry about moving again or endangering ourselves with the attention we could get from the Volturi. Do you have any idea what they would do to us if they knew we just up and let a mortal escape alive with knowledge of our kind? Or, that Carlisle and Esme openly had conversations with mages!?”

Her hands curled into fists but before she could act on her anger and irritation Emmett held her back, uttering in the husk of her ear. “Come on babe. It’s not like we revealed anything she didn’t already know. Plus, there hasn’t been any drama between the magic people and our kind for ages.” 

Rosalie’s entire head snapped back so quickly and hard that faint silvery white lines ran up her long and slender neck, before quickly fading as her body repaired itself. Emmett immediately released his seething wife and took a cautious step back as he smiled brilliantly at her. He meant no harm in what he had said, but what had happened and what was still happening he felt wasn’t anything that they should get so worked up about. Everything would play out just fine and if it didn’t then they would all face it as a family. 

“Stop!” Alice’s usual cheerful tone took a term. “We aren’t leaving Forks!” We can’t, not yet. Is what she mentally added with carefully placed images of other visions and thoughts to keep Edward from seeing the initial reason why the family had returned to the small rainy town. She knew it would only be problematic if Edward found out prematurely. The barrier and maze she suddenly brought up had Edward scowling. There was no mistaking she was hiding something, and he had known for a while that Alice was plotting. He was just worried about what it was and how it would impact their family. 

Her worried scrutiny shuffled between Rosalie, Edward, and Jasper but before anyone could begin fighting Alice gasped and her mind fixated itself into a new vision. One completely open for Edward to see. Chopped, blurred, and hazy images assaulted her rapidly. As did flashes of blonde curly hair, a black tree reaching upward, and pale grey eyes. Then, just as suddenly Alice was thrown back to earth before either could comprehend what the short blitz of images had meant. Through her mind Edward watched as Alice’s golden eyes studied Jasper from the peripheral of her vision. She was reaching back into the immediate future but the results were the same each time -- rough, smudged, and contorted. There was more there, Alice could feel it, but she just couldn’t reach it. Which left what she had seen, and still was seeing, to just not be enough to help them in any sort of way.

Alice was over being worried. She was flat out distraught with how her ability didn’t work around Nichole. She had never faced an issue like this before, and it was terrifying to know that dark magic could stop Alice from seeing. If the venom pooling in her eyes could have fallen it would have. She didn’t like not being able to see what paths the mortal could take, or how it might affect her dear family. Alice didn’t understand how someone cursed to repeatedly die could have absolutely nothing stone set. She would have taken seeing the girl eating a bloody apple or reading a book at this point! It was mind numbing that she couldn’t even tell if Nichole would be coming to classes on Monday. 

The unclarity of her visions made the one she had of the attack feel like it had been done in vivid details and colors. 

The rumble of engines and the sound of _two beating hearts_ had the entire Cullen family’s attention. Jasper thought he had been uncomfortable before now he felt like the weight on his shoulders was suddenly being magnified. They were here, _she was here_ , and it suddenly became crystal clear that he shouldn’t be. Jasper needed to leave before he messed up again, because he undoubtedly was going to. The moment the front doors opened and the cool air from outside blew in he’d be entranced again. There would be no momentarily daze before the urges came, because the urges hadn’t left. There were only thoughts of her in his mind, dark and sinister images with mental visuals. 

Jasper was reeling again as a dark voice, The Major’s, roared in the back of his mind. Instincts he was not feeling entirely ashamed of surfaced as a car door opened and she stepped out. He should have been holding his breath, or at least been preparing himself to do so, but Jasper did no such thing. While each intake of air was shaky they were full. A part of him lusted after the scent he had been clinging to in memory. He waited and listened to each breath they pulled in and pushed out, at their different rhythmic pulses, but oddly Jasper could only feel the emotional state of one person. 

“Nicky, Nicky, Nicky!” A male, voice high and shrill, huffed as his arms waved dramatically in the air. “You couldn’t be more wrong! Hot dogs are not sandwiches! It matters not if the slap of meat is squashed between two pieces of stall bred! The blasted thing will still be a damn dog.”

Why was Carlisle doing this to them? Why hadn’t they just uprooted and ran, or forced her guardian to take her and leave Forks? They never should have agreed to stay and see how things might play out just because there was a possibility a bit of magic could conceal the scent of her cursed blood. Staying promised nothing! Her mere presents around them Edward was convinced would be like toying with disaster. Jasper as it was could barely control his thirst, and there was no telling what would happen the longer they stayed. What if she bled again and a different one of them attacked her? Having a blood singer was a death just waiting to happen. All of this was feeling like one giant experiment, and a very ill-prepared and throughout one. Why should they push on Jasper’s limits and sport with the rest of the families?

Why couldn’t she just leave? Be afraid and run away?

She had miraculously slipped away the first time with her mortal life still intact. Had the attack not affected the teen like it would a normal person who didn’t know of the darker side of the world? Was she really not worried about what might happen? About facing death face on? 

While everyone was staring at the only entrance the mortals could come through into the living room Edward shot his attention towards Jasper. He was confident that it was only a matter of time before Jasper snapped again, and this time he certainly would kill the girl. Edward wasn’t the only one who’s mind was on Jasper following through with his instincts. After the attack it had been on all their minds, and now with the appointed time on them it felt like death itself was knocking at the door.

 _‘Why Carlisle?’_ It was Edward's own thought. His own question. His own worry.

Carlisle was the strongest out of the whole family when it came to his thirst. Human blood didn’t tempt him, but hers had drawn on something primal in his adopted father. Carlisle had been clear to them all about the draw it had. How it was like nothing he had ever dealt with before. Still even after tasting it Carlisle had managed to resist… Unlike Jasper who’s mind still was twisted around the incident and what he could still do if he just let loose. The honey blonde was a danger, a very dangerous danger.

Jasper’s eyes, barely tinted red, were nearly black with thirst. His mind tumbled again as mental images of paper thin dark skin breaking beneath his mouth before he sucked deep and hard had Edwards own throat aching as venom filled his mouth. Edward could see it, feel it almost, as Jasper imagined removing himself from Alice’s side. As he slipped from the room and guided the little mortal from the house and somewhere the others couldn’t find her. His fingers would gently brush across her waist before strong arms pulled the tall body against his chest. His cool mouth would begin tracing her pulsating and heated skin. The sensation would be sending shivers down his body before he’d finally - This time it was Edwards turn to growl. A warning that didn’t slip past any of his siblings or Carlisle and Esme who were leading the two mortals down the hallway. Dark, blackened, eyes met golden and Jasper held the contact finding a bit of relief in the distraction.

“Is everything alright?” Carlisle asked in a whisper only their kind would be able to pick up on it.

“I’m fine.” A lie. Edward could hear the shame, regret, and the war raging inside Jasper’s head. 

Then, there she stood feet away and for the first time thoughts of his thirst for blood wasn’t what was at the front of his mind. It still burned at the back of his throat but his mind was too occupied by her nearly missing emotional state, and something else. Jasper staggered as an onslaught of need to take, claim, and possess the woman before him hit like the time he had slipped and fallen off Mount. Everest. He wanted to hear her voice and feel her eyes on him.

The Major was even having an attitude change. Flipping from wanting to kill to an all new animalistic part of him that Jasper suddenly had the urge to learn more about. A pang of worry struck Jasper so quickly it physically felt like she had put her arm through his chest, and all when her pale hues found his darkened orbs. Like she could see into his mind and had witnessed the dark murderous thoughts he had been having of her. The thought of his eyes turning red again, of her blood spilling, and a corpse cooling in his arms left the worst sort of feeling in Jasper's gut. For the first time since he had attacked her Jasper truly felt guilty.

 _‘Found you.’_ Was Nichole’s only thought when she came to a stop a few inches into the living room. The details she couldn't remember of a face that had been haunting her dreams suddenly came together within a few short seconds.

“It’s just meat, Atticus.” 

“Just meat! Just meat! It’s an American classic! A sandwich has two flat pieces of bread and a hot dog has a wondrously curved bun! Curved not flattened! It’s like saying pygmy piglets are only pink and butterflies don’t fly in the coldest wintery months!” Noses wrinkled at the smell the mage naturally emitted as he came barreling into the room, a scowl on his face. His eyes danced as they scanned each of the new(ish) faces staring the two of them down. “This conversation is-” Carlisle was the first, and only, to notice the sudden leap his blood pressure took. Edward though jerked at the exact moment the teen’s words began to drift and his eyes rolled.

 _I was a child of the night!_  
 _Don’t sign the book of the beast…_  
 _She betrayed us… Maria did this and he killed us._  
 _Mama said the good lord only strikes the wicked down._  
 _Alexander, he was waiting for me but I took that alley and…. and he was there and I couldn’t run fast enough to get away…. so red… his eyes were so red._  
 _I’m sorry...I’m sorry…. I’m sorry… I’m-_  
  
A hand came crashing against the side of Edwards skull. A limp body fell forwards onto Nichole sending her feet forward. Then, suddenly the jarring amount of voices vanished. Leaving only one within the mages head for Edward to hear.


End file.
